


Grow In The Openings

by mindabbles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2297363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindabbles/pseuds/mindabbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He'd woken up this morning, thirty-eight years old, and realized he had no idea how to be anything other then a warrior or a prisoner.</i> Sirius came back from the dead, helped defeat the Dark Lord, and now he's faced with his toughest challenge yet; making a life for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grow In The Openings

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing(s): Sirius/Remus, Sirius/Charlie, Sirius/OMCs, mentions of Remus/Tonks, Harry/Ginny  
> Characters: Sirius, Remus, Harry (main); Ron, Kingsley, Molly, Charlie, Tonks, Teddy (minor)  
> Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
> Summary: He'd woken up this morning, thirty-eight years old, and realized he had no idea how to be anything other then a warrior or a prisoner. Sirius came back from the dead, helped defeat the Dark Lord, and now he's faced with his toughest challenge yet; making a life for himself.  
> Warnings: Lots of sex, some of it with strangers, all of it m/m.  
> Word Count: 33,000, give or take a few.  
> Author's Notes: The idea for this started over a year ago when elizassecret said to me, "I want you to write a story where Sirius doesn't die, I don't care how you do it. And Remus doesn't die either. And Sirius has to rebuild his life, but he also wants to make up for never having really taken advantage of being wealthy and gorgeous before. Have him make up for lost time, but then he wants to be there for Harry and make up to Remus for being gone." So, here is the story of how Sirius didn't die, and then had to live. 
> 
> Thank you to elizassecret for the narration and the on-going beta and cheer-leading. Thank you to lyras for the beta as well, her touch with lovely words, and encouragement. Hugs and cookies to you both. 
> 
> Thank you so much to my lovely and talented co-mods, midnitemaraudr and red_squared. It has been an absolute blast working with you. 
> 
> The original story was posted with art by spacefragements. I was thrilled that she chose to illustrate this story. Thank you to her for her gorgeous work. I hope you enjoy what we came up with together. 
> 
> The title and section titles come from the following poem by Walt Whitman:
> 
>  
> 
>  _WE two--how long we were fool'd!_  
>  Now transmuted, we swiftly escape, as Nature escapes;  
> We are Nature--long have we been absent, but now we return;  
> We become plants, leaves, foliage, roots, bark;  
> We are bedded in the ground--we are rocks;  
> We are oaks--we grow in the openings side by side;  
> We browse--we are two among the wild herds, spontaneous as any;  
> We are two fishes swimming in the sea together;  
> We are what the locust blossoms are--we drop scent around the lanes,  
> mornings and evenings;  
> We are also the coarse smut of beasts, vegetables, minerals;  
> We are two predatory hawks--we soar above, and look down;  
> We are two resplendent suns--we it is who balance ourselves, orbic  
> and stellar--we are as two comets;  
> We prowl fang'd and four-footed in the woods--we spring on prey;  
> We are two clouds, forenoons and afternoons, driving overhead;  
> We are seas mingling--we are two of those cheerful waves, rolling  
> over each other, and interwetting each other;  
> We are what the atmosphere is, transparent, receptive, pervious,  
> impervious:  
> We are snow, rain, cold, darkness--we are each product and influence  
> of the globe;  
> We have circled and circled till we have arrived home again--we two  
> have;  
> We have voided all but freedom, and all but our own joy.  
>  
> 
> -Walt Whitman, We Two, How Long We Were Fool'd

**Prologue: We Swiftly Escape**

The ancient stone should feel cool under his hand. It should tear his flesh and break his finger nails as he scrabbles against it, frantic to pull himself to standing. But he feels nothing, nothing other than a bone-deep ache from seeing the pain in Harry's eyes. 

Forcing himself to his feet, he stumbles across the dais. There are no signs of a battle. No bits of torn robe litter the stage; not even Bellatrix's laughter echoes here. 

Rows and rows of benches loom above him, and he has no idea where he'll find the energy to climb. The look in Harry's eyes comes back to him in a rush and he forces his legs, leaden and stiff, but running now, up to the door. 

Clenching his wand, he pushes open the door, expecting a flash of green light at any moment, or worse, to come across one of his friends crumpled on the floor. Even as hexes and protective spells hover on his lips, he knows. He knows that something is different and that while he walked right back through the Veil, he hasn't come to the same place, and he won't come across Harry here. Remus will not coming bursting in to find him.

There is only one way out and he has to find his way back to Harry. This cannot be it. He's not finished, and his feet pound on the stone as he races down the hallway. At the end, there is just one other door. One way out and one way in, and though it feels like a trap, he is relieved not to have to make a choice. A plain black door. 

The room into which he steps is perfectly circular, lit with the blue flames of many candles. The shining floor is disorienting and he almost expects to plunge into cold water as he takes a step.

The floor is solid beneath him, but he doesn't trust his senses in this place. He turns to mark the door, a scarlet circle burning against the eerie blue light. No matter what else happens here, he knows he cannot go back the way he came.

In the stillness of these depths of the Ministry, the only sound is his breathing. He freezes, listening. Twice before, in situations between life and death, James has come and walked with him. 

Three days into his imprisonment, searing with grief and self-loathing, when it became clear that no one was coming to his defence and no judgement would be heard and Harry would be raised by Muggles. When all he could see when he shut his eyes was James and Lily, lifeless and cold, James had come for the first time. James had come to the dank, forsaken cell and whispered that he was not to give up. The time to act would come. 

The second time, a dog washed up on the frigid, rocky shore, barely breathing. He heard a soothing, familiar voice, urging him to move, to wake, imploring him not to give in to the shakes and the fatigue that crept over him. He awoke to find himself alone, but with a warmth in his chest that sustained him through the rest of his journey.

Sirius waits. James will come and tell him why he is here and how to get back to Harry. The room spins. Ripples of shadow and light reflect on the floor like waves and Sirius feels the room dip and sway dizzily. 

"What do you want?" But it is not James' voice; it's his own. He doesn't know if he is asking the room what it wants, or if he is asking himself. _Want, want_ echoes around the room.

The marked door whirs past him, a deep-red blur. It comes to rest just to his right. If that is the way to the fiasco that had become his life, then the opposite way must be a better choice. He takes tentative steps across the shimmering floor, walking the radius to the door exactly opposite the one he marked. 

He reaches out a hand to push it open and it slips away, the room spinning around him. He blinks hard and looks down against the disequilibrium as he sways on his feet. When he feels the breeze from the moving walls cease, he forces his eyes to refocus. His scarlet circle blazes three doors to his right. 

This is old magic. He can feel it, the way his body used to hum with it when Uncle Alphard secretly taught him some of the old ways, the family knowledge from before the Blacks used their heritage to hurt. 

He closes his eyes again and walks where his feet take him. When he looks again, he is exactly opposite the newly burning door. Certain now of what he must do, he repeats the walk across the floor five times, until he has paced out a pentagram. 

He inhales slowly, taking a moment to thank his uncle for teaching him the magic so often rejected by modern witches and wizards. His mark is beginning to fade. His heart racing, he thinks, _What if, what if I step back into Hogwarts, a boy, knowing what I know now? Or even to October 30th, 1981? Anytime, anytime when saving James and Lily would still be a possibility. If only I could give Harry his family and the life he deserved._

Sirius raises his hand and pushes. The door swings open with absolutely no resistance. 

 

**One: Now We Return**

The worn carpet was scratchy under his cheek. He slowly opened the eye that was not flush against the floor. Buckbeak's earthy scent filled his senses. It was nearly dark in this room where he had spent much of his recent exile, if you could be exiled in your own house. 

Sirius forced himself to sit, having no idea how long he had been asleep or if the chaotic and disturbing images in his head were real or dreamt.

Memories of Harry and the Ministry became solid in his brain. He leapt to his feet, fingers gripping his wand so tightly that his blunt nails dug into his palms. 

The house was too quiet and Buckbeak was not in his room. 

There had been a pentagram. A door. 

Sirius placed his hand on the doorknob of Buckbeak's room. He wrapped his fingers around it and turned slowly. It swung open to reveal more silence. The carpet lining the hallway was pulled up in spots and the portrait of the Sirius from the 1800's was crooked. 

"See the state of me, boy!" the portrait-Sirius yelled as soon as he spotted his namesake. "Hanging at this angle, I'll have a sore neck until Kingdom Come."

"Hasn't it already?" Sirius asked. The house was too quiet. The dust motes were thick in the air and the creaks and groans that had faded while it bustled with life were the only sounds. It was as if the house were a live, wild thing, creeping back, reclaiming what was tamed when the Order was here. 

He took a step across the hallway and reached out to straighten his crotchety namesake. 

"Don't move."

The voice was low and rough and the tip of a wand pressed into the side of his neck. He froze, but rolled his wand in his fingers.

"Do not fucking move. Particularly your wand hand." The voice was close enough that he could feel the force of the words against his skin, gravelly and menacing and so familiar.

"Remus." Sirius turned his head a fraction of an inch and his face connected with the wall as strong hands shoved him against it. 

"Tell me who you are now or you're dead where you stand," Remus growled, his hand clutching the back of Sirius' neck where he pushed him into the wall. 

Sirius opened his mouth to say that Remus might give him a minute to adjust after coming back through the Veil before he started throwing him against walls and threatening him with death, and then it occurred to him that he did not know where he was, or who this Remus was, and if this man might actually kill him. Bracing himself for pain, he dropped to the floor like a stone. Remus scrabbled to keep hold of his neck, raking fingernails along his skin. Sirius sprang to standing again, turning to face Remus. Remus raised his wand, but Sirius moved just that tiny bit faster and he had his wand at Remus' chest at the same time as Remus pressed his against Sirius' neck again. 

"I was always quicker than you, Moony," Sirius said, eyes holding Remus', wary of any movement. 

"No you weren't," Remus said, grimacing, and Sirius could have crowed with relief because this Remus knew him. "Sirius and I were fairly evenly matched." His wand pressed harder into Sirius' throat. "So, I'll ask _one more time_. Who are you?"

Sirius hesitated, searching for the right words. Hadn't they gone through this dozens of times since the Order reformed? They had so many secrets, the two of them. It was never a challenge to come up with a question. One wrong step now and one of them might end up dead. Again.

"The evening before James and Lily's wedding," Sirius said slowly. This was something about which they had never spoken before. The moment it had happened, it had been mutually and silently understood that it was never to be mentioned again. "We were pissed and I told you I used to hope they would split before they got married. Not because I didn't want them both to be happy, but because I thought it was a mad time to be in love. No one should have that much to lose during a war. I told you that the idea of losing friends was too much weight as it was. Then I kissed you and you pushed me away."

Remus didn't move. His eyes remained steely and Sirius was reminded of why Remus always kept himself so carefully in check.

"Sirius Black is dead," Remus said. 

"It was a stupid thing to do and a stupid time to do it, and we never talked about it again," Sirius went on determinedly. "You didn't leave me there like that, good sort that you are. You called me a daft arse and took me home and stayed with me all night. The next day, we watched James and Lily get married."

The wand tip dug into his neck still. Remus sucked in a ragged breath.

"Moony," Sirius said, lowering his wand. "It's me."

"Sirius Black died three months ago," Remus insisted. His expression remained fierce, but Sirius was still standing and he could see a glimmer of something that might be panic or might be hope in Remus' eyes. 

"I did," Sirius said. "I went through the Veil, but I found a way out. Harry, Remus. Harry's not safe. I promised James."

Remus slowly pulled the wand away from Sirius' neck. He scowled, still wary. Always so careful, Moony. 

"You would," Remus said, an irritated tone in his voice. "You would manage to escape both Azkaban and death to keep a promise to James." He placed a hand on Sirius' shoulder, gripping as if to test if he were real. "Is it you, Padfoot?"

Sirius nodded silently, eyes still locked with Remus, and Remus leaned forward and pulled him into a fierce embrace. 

It was uncomfortably familiar, this reunion. Leaving Remus to his grief and then springing an unlikely return on him was becoming dangerously close to a habit. 

The kitchen was stale and mouldering with neglect. Remus managed to find some loose tea and transfigured two candlesticks and a serving platter into teacups and a pot. He cast glances at Sirius as if he expected him to either start raving or go up in a puff of smoke. 

Sirius jiggled his knee, watching Remus carry the now steaming teapot to the long table.

"Remus, where is everyone? What's happened? Where is Harry?"

"Harry is at school," Remus said. "He stayed at the Burrow after—after. Dumbledore moved him there as soon as he'd had enough time at the Dursleys'." 

"A bloody minute's enough time," Sirius grumbled.

"Indeed," Remus said. "Although, I do believe that a few of us may have persuaded that horrible man to be a bit more decent to him."

A wave of gratitude and hurt swept through Sirius. "Good on you," he said. "Where's everyone else?"

Remus looked around warily. "Speaking of, we shouldn't stay long. Don't know if the place is secure anymore. We're not using it at the moment, if you couldn't tell. I just came back to fetch some books and things we left," Remus said, shrugging. "Didn't seem right anymore. Not with you gone." 

"I'm sorry to do that to you again," Sirius said quietly. 

Remus waved away Sirius' apology with one hand, as if dying and coming back was just something he expected of Sirius.

"Sirius, we lost Susan and Emmeline," Remus said. 

"Oh," Sirius said, and the sound seemed to echo through the kitchen, although it was no longer empty. "It really is full on, isn't it? Just like before."

Remus gave Sirius that look he hated, one that was close to pity, one that said he thought this was all harder for Sirius than it was for him. Remus would have denied it, but that was what it meant. 

"Not exactly. We know more this time. But so does Voldemort. We know that anyone could betray us. Somehow the stakes seem higher," Remus said.

"How could the stakes be higher?" 

"Maybe I'm just older." 

"I hoped," Sirius said, so softly that he wasn't sure he had spoken the words aloud. "I hoped for a moment that I would end up back at school." He looked into Remus' grim, haggard face and placed one hand on the worn robe over his friend's knee. "There are so many things I'd have done differently."

"We should get out of here until we know it's safe," Remus said, a shadow crossing quickly over his face. 

"I have to tell Harry."

"Yes, you do," Remus said, and the tone in his voice told Sirius that Harry had been in as much pain as he'd feared. "And Dumbledore. Oh, and you can tell Kreacher. There's a reunion I'd like to witness." Remus raised one eyebrow and the corner of his lip curved up slightly.

"It is possible that I should leave that for another day," Sirius said, feeling the unlikely hint of a smile dancing just out of reach.

"Indeed." 

After Remus sent off his Patronus to Dumbledore, they had some time to wait—some time for unanswered questions. Remus had been off to the packs even more than before. He always said he was a werewolf who bore the marks of living with wizards, but as they sat together and Remus told him about the past few months, Sirius saw more and more the wizard bearing the marks of living among werewolves. 

His experience in the round room raced through his head and he tried to imagine how to explain it when Remus asked him about it. But to his surprise, Remus didn't ask. Perhaps because he always knew when to leave Sirius alone or perhaps because he had already lost enough and didn’t want to question this one piece of good fortune.

 

**Two: Long Have We Been Absent**

"Sirius!"

Remus really could shout, Sirius thought. People thought he was so quiet, but no one could bellow like Remus. 

"N'here," Sirius called. He pulled himself to standing. He didn't actually want Remus to see him sprawled out and pissed on the floor of Buckbeak's room. He reached out a hand to steady himself on the wall. 

"Sirius?" Remus said, pushing open the door. He wrinkled his nose. "Come out of there. It smells like a midden." 

"Don't say that, Moony. You'll hurt Buckbeak's feelings," Sirius said. 

"All right," Remus said. He grabbed Sirius' arm and pulled him in to the hallway. " _You_ smell like a midden. How long have you been drinking?" 

"Pfft," Sirius said. Surely no one should begrudge a bloke who'd only been back from the dead for a couple of months a drink. Another misconception about Remus—everyone thought him so reasonable. 

Remus waved his hand in front of his face.

" _What_ have you been drinking?" 

"Remus," Sirius said, narrowing his eyes to try and make Remus less fuzzy around the edges. "Why are you here? When did you get back?" 

"First a shower, some tea, and then we'll talk," Remus said mildly. Anyone else would think he was calm, but Sirius knew better.

"What's the matter?" Sirius asked. "That twitchy thing in your jaw is twitching."

The twitchy thing jumped right the way out of Remus' jaw.

"I don't have a _twitchy thing_ ," Remus said, clenching his jaw. 

"You do," Sirius said. "You do and it means something is wrong." A frisson of fear jolted through Sirius. "Is it Harry? Something's happened to Harry."

"It is about Harry," Remus said. "Get your arse in the shower, sober up, and then we can talk."

"Tell me now, Remus."

Remus rolled his eyes. "He's fine," Remus said, placing a comforting hand on Sirius' shoulder. "At least he's as fine as he can be. I'll make some tea. Meet me in the kitchen when you smell less like a hippogriff's hind end." 

"Arse," Sirius grumbled, raising two fingers. But he made his way carefully down the hallway to the bathroom. 

The shower and a dose of Pepper Up Potion chased by three cups of strong tea took the edge off the whisky—a bloody waste of some very expensive, very old whisky. It was the only thing that made the feeling of crawling out of his skin go away these days. The sobering-up took him right to the worst time of it, the comforting fog of the alcohol cleared, and he was left raw and open.  
"That whisky you've just insisted on me wasting cost more than most people's houses," he said, trying for levity, trying to tell Remus how glad he was that he was here. 

"You've more, no doubt," Remus said. He filled Sirius’ tea cup again. "You come to meetings, you do precisely what is asked, and you don't get in anyone's way. You don't argue, you don't push your point, and you—"

"How do you know so much?" Sirius snapped. "Molly reporting to you? You're certainly not around enough to notice."

"And you don't stay after meetings, or generally make a nuisance of yourself," Remus continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. 

"I'm certain you must have a point," Sirius said. He gripped the edge of his seat to stop the shaking that started to creep out from somewhere deep in his chest. 

"Why haven't you said if you'll come to the Burrow for Christmas?" Remus demanded. 

"What?" Sirius blinked. 

"Christmas," Remus repeated. "Harry will be there. In fact, all of us who don't have our own family will be there." 

Harry shouldn't feel as if he had no family. If Sirius had not spent all of the boy's life failing him, he would know that Sirius was his family. Fuck, he would have his parents. And Remus wouldn't have the look of someone who had spent much of his life stretching one meal into three. And here he sat, up to his ears in hippogriff’s leavings and Dark Magic, drinking himself into a stupor whenever there was no meeting and slowly letting this house drive him as mad as Kreacher. The ways he could fail those he loved seemingly knew no bounds. 

"Sirius. Padfoot." Remus' voice was soft and low, cautious, and Sirius was sure he'd called him a few times.

Sirius shook his head. His chest ached. He tried to take a deep breath, shake off this feeling of drowning, but it caught in his throat.

"I'm barely breathing," Sirius said, and he hardly recognized his own voice. 

Remus stood, his jaw set. 

"Get up," he said. "Pack a few things. You're coming with me. I’m not leaving you here another day. I can't believe you've stayed as long as you have. I should have put my foot down ages ago. _Get up_ , Padfoot."

"I'll just floo Hagrid and ask him to look after Buckbeak," Sirius said. He placed his hands on the table in front of him. They were only shaking slightly now. "Moony? Thanks." 

 

**Three: Bedded In The Ground**

In the time between day and night, when the light filtered through Remus' curtained window, misty blue, Sirius remembered.

He wondered if he would always awake just before dawn, his own personal witching hour, when the Dementors had swooped in to feed on people in their half-dreaming vulnerability.

When Remus was home, when the night before had been full of laughter and memories of being the cleverest and the quickest, of a time when youth lit their way and they could overcome anything, Sirius could remember friends who would die for him. In the pre-dawn hours, he thought back to when having a cause worth dying for seemed romantic; when his successes had still outnumbered his failures. 

In the mornings when Remus was not home, when he was off trying to forge alliances with others who trusted him no more than they did anyone else who carried a wand, Sirius remembered other things. He imagined Remus, each time he visited the werewolves, carrying a wand and Dumbledore's message, coming closer and closer to having to use magic, an act that would cost him months of hard and miserable work. At those times, the pleasure of having his old friend back was dulled by the realisation that their world was just as dangerous as it had been before. 

Those mornings he also saw, in vivid relief, James' face when he had realised it was Voldemort at the door and Lily's eyes when she begged for Harry's life. The memory of handing Harry over to Hagrid would blast through his chest like a hex, and he would have to sit and close his eyes until he could remember that the sun would rise again today. 

Some mornings, when he had been alone more than not, when real meetings and actual useful tasks were few and far between, he thought of Remus and imagined how it must have been for him when he awoke one morning to find that everyone he loved had vanished.

One night he had asked. One evening, when their reminiscing had taken them right to the edge of the precipice, he had stepped over it and asked, _What did you do, how did you live, after?_

Remus had taken a long, slow breath, and for a moment, Sirius thought he might not answer. 

_What do you want to hear Sirius? What have you used to bludgeon yourself all these years? It's not terribly interesting, or romantic. More of a tragic comedy, really. First, I drank a great deal. One day, it occurred to me that I hadn't actually managed to drink or fuck myself into oblivion. It seemed I wasn't going to die on my own, so I did the next best thing and disappeared. It was pathetic—a grand gesture when there is no one to notice isn't very grand at all. Muggles didn't know that I was the idiot who had trusted Sirius Black, so the only question the first one asked was how I was going to pay the rent. I preferred sleeping in a clean, if impoverished, little bedsit to under a bridge, so I managed odd jobs and finally teaching at a Muggle college. But I missed being among wizards, so when my parents died, I came back here. Work's been hard to find, but I've survived and it turns out there is something to be said for coming out of exile._

_I'm so sorry, Moony_ , Sirius had said, stunned by how well he still knew his oldest living friend.

_It is what it is, and by the by, I'd not like to try and compete with you over who's had the rougher time._

"Sirius? All right?" 

Remus sank into a seat opposite him, his face drawn and dour. He pulled the teapot to him and summoned a cup.

"It's hours old," Sirius said, gesturing at the pot. "And it's cold."

"I'm not overly particular," Remus said, shrugging and warming the tea with a flick of his wand. 

"That's an understatement," Sirius chuckled.

"Oi," Remus said, the lines around his mouthing softening just a bit. "It's too early to begin insulting me."

Sirius smiled, and it felt odd, those muscles unused. 

"What are you doing contemplating the crockery?" Remus asked. His tone was gentle. 

Sirius coughed and tipped some of the dreadful tea into his cup. "Can't sleep. How was the trip?"

"Ghastly," Remus said, making a face at the bitter tea. "They only get worse as time goes on. The _Prophet_ and the Ministry proclamations about safety aren't helping any. And before you say it, Dumbledore is busy."

"He's up to something with Harry," Sirius said. 

"I know," Remus said. "He hasn't said what?"

"Only that they’re having lessons," Sirius said. He trusted Dumbledore, but it infuriated him that he was keeping secrets with Harry. Hadn't he learned that secrets ate away at whatever they touched? "I don't like it."

"Don't start, Sirius," Remus said. "I'm tired and I've said what I think about this."

"Does trusting the old codger mean we can't ask questions?"

"I hardly think that he's a _codger_ , and yes, sometimes it does mean that. That's the way to do it this time, Sirius. We trust him and we tell each other everything," Remus said firmly, an intense glint in his eye. 

"Everything?" Sirius asked, standing to look down at Remus. "Really, Moony? Then tell me why you're not coming with me for Christmas Eve at Andromeda's."

Remus closed his eyes and Sirius could see that he rolled them from the movement under his eyelids.

"Sirius, I don't want to argue. Please. Let's just have breakfast."

There were so many things that still were not right—secrets withheld by Dumbledore, Snape in the Order, seeing Harry twice a year when he had a lifetime to make up. But sitting with Remus, talking or not, sharing a meal, was about the only thing that was right. Sirius decided that this he should take without question.

"Eggs or porridge?" Sirius asked. 

"Both."

 

**Four: As Two Comets**

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut against the coming dawn. He did not want to wake to a day where Dumbledore was dead, where the man they'd all hung their hopes upon had trusted Severus Snape because he'd _said he was sorry_. Sirius was so angry he could spit, and that wasn't even starting on how furious he was about what the man had put Harry through. 

That did it. There was no going back to sleep, no drifting into a dream where nothing in his current life existed. 

"Stop it, man," he said to the mirror. "Remus would tell you that you were being melodramatic, and he'd be right." There were, after all, several good things in his life: Harry, Remus, seeing Andromeda again, getting to know Tonks. And the lack of monsters sucking his every good feeling from him was not half bad, either. 

Sirius pulled on pants and walked down the hallway to the loo. At least that's where he had intended on going. Just as he passed Remus' room the door opened and out stumbled Tonks, bright pink hair tousled and wearing Remus' shirt.

"Er, morning," she said, flushing as pink as her hair.

"Morning," Sirius said. He pushed down an irrational anger that while he had been tossing and turning, they, well, apparently they had been, too. 

It wasn't as if he hadn't seen her glances, the way she lit when Remus was near. It just seemed as if Remus was not interested, bloody stubborn, or really believed his bollocks about not being good enough for her. It had never honestly occurred to Sirius that he would wake up one morning and find a woman, at the very least his baby cousin, coming out of Remus' bedroom, looking thoroughly shagged. 

"Sirius?" she asked gently. "All right?"

"Not as well as you," he snapped. She flushed brighter and he regretted his words immediately. "I'm fine. Just worried about Harry and still in shock about Dumbledore."

Tears sprang to her eyes. "Yeah," she said. "It's hard to believe. I don't think I do, yet. Are you…is this—" she asked, pulling at Remus' shirt. "Is this all right with you?" 

"You may wear Remus' shirt any time you please."

She rolled her eyes at him and pushed open the door to the loo. 

"Tonks," Sirius said. "I'm not his mum, and you're two of my favourite people. It's fine. Odd, but fine." 

"Ta, Sirius," she said, closing the bathroom door.

Fuck. He really had to piss. 

*

Sirius felt tetchy and out of sorts all through the next day. He tried to avoid Remus because he didn't want to take it out on him. Remus had tried to _talk about it_ several times. 

The day was made even more spectacular by the most desperate Order meeting he had attended since right before the end, last time. More waiting. Waiting and planning, and Dumbledore's funeral. Sirius felt a hole, aching and raw, and it wasn't until the end of the meeting that he'd realised the hole was the place where the belief that Dumbledore would always be their leader had been. Remus felt the same way, he could see it. After nearly a full day of staying in whatever space Remus was not, Sirius was forced into the kitchen after some tea.

"Sirius?" Remus asked as soon as Sirius stepped into the room. "Are you hungry? I can fry some eggs." 

"No."

"Neither am I."

Remus stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking quite lost. 

"Look, would you bloody speak to me?" Remus snapped and Sirius blinked in surprise. 

"Nymphadora not staying the night?" Sirius bit the inside of his cheek.

Remus' shoulders sagged, he looked so weary. "I know. It was a mistake," he said. "And I'm sorry you found out as you did. She came by after you'd gone to bed." 

"And 'coming by' means you have to shag her?" 

"When it came up before, you told me I was being stupid," Remus said, frowning. "I didn't think there were any reasons you'd mind now." He paused and stepped half a step closer. "Sirius, is there any reason at all that you mind?"

Sirius coughed. He shook his head. He coughed again. "No. No, of course not," he said. "Just seemed like your timing's a bit off, although sex and death do go together, don't they?"

"So they say," Remus said, eyes still and wary.

"S'all right, Moony. Honestly," Sirius said. 

He still felt vaguely as if he were crawling out of his skin. The world was a different place than the one he'd woken in yesterday. 

"Thanks, mate," Remus said, seeming to deflate slightly. 

"Look here," Sirius said. He pushed his chair back from the kitchen table and stood, pacing beside the worn, small table. "It's high time I moved out."

" _Sirius_."

"Hear me out Remus. I've been thinking it for at least a fortnight now. It's back to how it was before. Concentrating the targets all in one place is a bad idea."

Remus snorted in disbelief. "You’re saying we did it right before? How about strength in numbers?"

Sirius hadn't actually been thinking about it for a fortnight. He and Remus had fallen into a comfortable, companionable way of life. Remus was around a bit more, and Sirius was less prone to fits of melancholy. But he was suddenly itching to go. Maybe it was Dumbledore's death that had him in a twist. Maybe it was seeing that Remus needed to be able to have a life without Sirius hanging about all the time. He only knew he had to go.

"Remus, I can't sleep on your settee for the rest of my life."

"You are not going back to Grimmauld Place," Remus commanded, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"No, I'm not _that_ masochistic anymore. I'll take a room somewhere for now. A permanent situation seems a bit silly at the moment, anyway." 

Remus sighed and uncrossed his arms. "You don't have to go. You really don't. This is because of Tonks. If it makes you that uncomfortable, I’ll break it off with her. This is your home now."

"No, it's not," Sirius said more firmly. "It's yours. You brought me here because I was dying where I was and you're a good friend. Now you need to have your house and your life, and I don't fancy being in your way while you’re entertaining my wee cousin."

"You don't have to do this," Remus said evenly. The hint of desperation in his eyes was almost enough to make Sirius change his mind. 

*

Sirius didn't have much to pack. He left just after tea. 

Once, when he was about ten years old, his parents had given him the rare treat of spending a weekend in the city with Uncle Alphard. He had taken Sirius to posh tea rooms where no one knew who they were and to Muggle films that his parents would never let him see. They had stayed at a swank Muggle hotel that had gone a bit derelict. An enterprising wizard had purchased just the top floor. The entire floor was under a Disillusionment Charm and staff skilled at Memory Modification charms ensured that Muggles who saw people in cloaks and tall hats were certain they'd seen a ghost. 

Sirius Apparated to the alley behind the hotel. It certainly looked different, as if a wealthy Muggle had taken charge of it. Either the place was grander then Sirius remembered, or he was quite unused to opulence now.

He walked through the back door and then the vast kitchen, drawing strange looks, one call of, _Here, you're not supposed to be back here!_ and at least one muttered, _Did you see that? That was the Grey Ghost_. He approached the front desk apprehensively and said, "I have a booking for room 333."

A man who could have been twenty-five or forty appeared in front of Sirius as if he'd Apparated, but Sirius hadn't heard a sound.

"Did you say room 333, sir?" he asked. On closer look, Sirius could see that the man was just a bit younger than him. He appeared very distinguished in a Muggle suit, long auburn hair pulled back in a bunch, intelligent, bright hazel eyes, and broad chest that hinted at an impressive physique. 

"Yes," Sirius said, looking about. The bustling sounds of the Muggles seemed to fade and Sirius felt as if he and the man were the only ones there.

"We've been awaiting your arrival. Welcome to the Langham South." He paused and looked around. "Have you no luggage? Very well then, follow me. I am Mr. Banon, and I am at your service."

"Sirius Black." Sirius waited for the look of alarm or the eyebrows raised in disdain, but Mr. Banon simply beckoned him to follow. 

"What brings you to the Langham, if I may pry?" Mr. Banon asked, with a pleasant smile that made him even more attractive than before.

Sirius hadn't been out of it so long that he couldn't recognise the searching look he was being given. Well, he had been out of it that long. But he remembered the feel of eyes taking in his black hair, broad shoulders, and asking if they might just have a common interest. 

They stopped by a blank expanse of wall and Banon tapped it with his wand four times. The panelling spread and reformed into an elaborate elevator door. With a pleasant ding it opened to a lift that was larger than Remus' front room. 

Sirius ran through his reasons for being here—the only truth being that he couldn't stay at Remus' for another minute and he didn't really know why.

"I suppose it would be terribly tactless if I were to say present company," Sirius said, smiling in return.

"Difficult to believe perhaps," Banon said. "But the sentiment would be appreciated, were it to be said." 

Sirius hadn't felt the lift move, but the bell sounded again and the doors slid silently open onto a stunning landing. Sirius had to blink against the glare of the marble floor. 

"Would it be even more tactless to ask if your work here doesn't get a bit lonely?" Sirius asked. 

They had come to a door, nearly seven feet high, decorated with ornate mouldings. It swung open with a wave of Banon's wand. He turned and his gaze raked over Sirius again. 

"It would certainly be _obvious_ ," Banon said, but he didn't seem annoyed. If anything, he seemed intrigued. "It would also be true. No so many come here now. Times are difficult again."

He stepped into the room and bowed Sirius in. It was just as Sirius remembered the rooms here being. A large sitting room, filled with beautifully wrought furniture, opened onto a luxurious bedroom with a bed so large that six people could sleep comfortably. The bedroom ended in a wall of windows with a spectacular view of London. 

"I'll want privacy," Sirius said. He sat on one of the plump settees. "There are some who may look for me. I don't want them to find me."

"All the rooms have protective charms," Banon said. "And you are welcome to perform your own, as long as the chamber maid can still find your room."

"I think I'd like for you to be able to find my room as well."

"Indeed?" Banon asked. He cleared his throat and moved to stand in front of Sirius. "Many of our guests require discretion, Mr. Black." 

"Sirius, and I believe I shall as well," Sirius said. "What's your name, Banon?"

"Mr. Banon."

Sirius laughed. "Well, Mr. Banon, am I mistaken or would you care to join me?" Sirius asked, patting the sofa cushion next to him.

"You're not mistaken. As I've said, we seem to have fallen out of vogue, and company of a particular sort is hard to come by." Banon sat elegantly next to him and Sirius reached to cup his knee.

"I take it I'm that sort?" Sirius asked.

"Well, that remains to be seen," Banon said. As Banon’s eyes travelled over his body, Sirius was startlingly aware of the marks of Azkaban, of grief, the loss of the beauty he'd once carried so carelessly, and rather glad of a couple of years of enough to eat and a place to bathe. "I'm hopeful."

Sirius opened Banon's robe with a swish of his wand, grinning at the gasp that was half-surprise and half-arousal. 

"You don't waste time, do you?" Banon said, his cock stirring, the outline beginning to show through his pants. Sirius laughed, delighted that he'd made Banon drop the cool-as-a-cucumber routine so quickly. 

"Don't believe in it," Sirius said. "We both know why we're here." He wrapped his fingers around Banon's cock and dipped his head to suck it into his mouth before it was fully hard. He loved to feel a cock fill to hardness on his tongue. One, two, three pulls with his mouth from bottom to top and he couldn't get his mouth all the way down anymore. Banon tangled his fingers in Sirius hair, gripping but not pushing, and he groaned when Sirius swirled his tongue around the tip. 

_Fuck_ , it had been so long since Sirius had done this. His own cocked throbbed as Banon began to thrust up into his mouth. He added his hand to his movements and stroked up as he sucked down, hand and mouth meeting in the middle.

" _Ah, unh_ ," Banon gasped. "Faster, _please_ , faster."

Sirius sucked hard and fast and Banon pulled at his hair. "Coming," he moaned.

Sirius tasted his come, bitter and salty in his mouth, and moved gently on Banon's softening cock. He quickly summoned one of the thick hand towels from the bath, and discreetly spat into it, wiping his mouth, before Banon had even opened his eyes. 

He yanked off his own clothing, his cock straining and aching, and tipped his head back, sighing with relief as he wrapped his hand around it and stroked hard and fast.

Banon opened one eye. "Let me," he said, making a move to get up.

"Mm, ah, no," Sirius gasped, too far gone to stop. Banon was beautiful, everything put together as if he were planned, just like the room and the lift. He kept his eyes on the sculpted chest, lightly scattered with auburn hair and pictured his come all over it, squeezing hard with his hand. He moaned loud as that incredible tightness and rush of relief overtook him. 

"Oh," Banon said, a spark of arousal again in his eye. 

"I was right," Sirius said. "You look gorgeous that way."

Banon looked down at his chest and laughed. He reached for the hand towel, which seemed to be clean again, and wiped up. 

"I must attend to other duties, as pleasant a diversion as this as been," Banon said, standing abruptly and arranging his robe.

"You're welcome back any time," Sirius said, flopping back down on the couch. 

"I hope you enjoy your stay," Banon said, as he reached for the door knob. 

"I believe I will," Sirius said. It _would_ be nice to have some time to himself that was not enforced. And _that_ had been long over due. Apparently Banon felt the same way. It was beyond fortuitous that he'd bumped into Tonks this morning, really. Sirius felt sated and more relaxed than he had in ages. Really. 

"I always enjoyed your Uncle, by the way," Banon said as he pulled the door closed. 

 

**Five: Soar Above, And Look Down**

Sirius slept for twenty-four hours after he watched his godson vanquish Voldemort. 

The first morning that he awoke with the knowledge that Harry was safe, he got out of bed and rang for tea. The tea was steaming in a delicate pot and he sat with a cup of it in his hand, staring at a point on his hotel room wall, until the tea had gone stone cold. 

There was a tentative knock at the door and the chambermaid called, "Towels, Mister Black?" 

"I...no," he answered through the door. "I don't need towels. I don't know what to do."

"Pardon, sir," the girl said hesitantly, her voice muffled. "You needin' something else?"

"Yes. No. Sorry," he said. 

He stood and pulled on clothes. Muggle jeans and shirt, leather jacket—the costume he donned to move about in this temporary life he'd lived the past year. He caught a glimpse of himself in the gilded mirror over the table near the door. He looked a right state—dark circles under his eyes, long hair every which way, a wild, lost expression on his face. He found some portion of pleasure in the fact that he looked as he felt. 

As he left the hotel, he knew he'd not be back. He thought he should find Banon and say goodbye, but it seemed unnecessary. He'd never even learned his first name. They had only been a convenience for each other.

He'd woken up this morning, thirty-eight years old, and realized he had no idea how to be anything other then a warrior or a prisoner. 

*

The streets were busy, crowded with people going for their lunch, tourists window shopping, kids skiving off the last few days of school before the holidays. They hurried through the warm, early summer afternoon, no clue what had happened yesterday. No idea what Harry had accomplished. All behaving as if life would go on as it had. 

He was supposed to be happy. He felt lost.

Bright, loud laughter erupted next to him. A fair woman with long, brown hair, her hand draped over the shoulders of a skinny teenaged girl dressed all in black, pointed at something in a window display. She and the girl laughed again and she tightened her arm around the girl, squeezing for a moment. The girl allowed it, clearly pleased, until she squirmed away, pretending to be annoyed by her mother's affection. A woman with curly, short black hair, wearing a yellow blouse over her smooth brown skin stood a few feet away, smiling lovingly. The other two didn't know they were being watched and they continued to laugh at something only they could see. After a moment, the woman in yellow asked, _Here, what's so funny?_ as she came to stand next to them, her fingers trailing casually down the other woman's arm. The girl leaned, bumping into the woman in yellow. Pulling a face, she said, _You're late_. Another loving smile, and _Make it up to you? Take you for a 99_. The girl narrowed her eyes, and then laughed again. _You're on_. 

They moved on, to get their ice creams, never noticing the dishevelled man watching them. 

Sirius' feet carried him over the pavement, weaving between the people until he reached the Leaky Cauldron. He pushed in the door and stopped as a burst of sound washed over him. 

It was utterly packed. People from wall to wall were drinking and laughing, shrugging off the shroud of the war. Behind the bar, Tom turned with a sheen of perspiration and a rare smile to see who else had come to celebrate and pull him out of a two-year slump. 

"Well, if it isn't Sirius Black!" he shouted. "A genuine hero, you are. It's thanks we owe you, Sirius. Come and have a pint on the house." 

Sirius nodded his thanks, but waved him off. The noise and all the people assaulted his senses and he had to keep moving. In the sudden quiet of the alley, he tapped his wand against the brick and another world of colours and sounds and hustle and bustle greeted him.

More then half the shops were still boarded up, and others were closed. The nasty little booths and hucksters that had appeared over the past couple of years had gone as quickly as they came. The apothecary, the post office, and Flourish and Blott's were just barely open. Each of them showed scant window displays and half-drawn shades, as if they were peeking out after a storm, checking if it was really over. 

Sirius stopped in front of _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_. Neon-bright signs still glared, the twins' dogged attempt to fight the fear and melancholy that had taken over in the previous months. A placard proclaimed, _Death Eaters Got You Down? Try Levitation Lollies—You'll Get Right Back Up_. Hanging from the door knob was a small handwritten sign that read, _Closed Until Further Notice_.

He turned on his heel and walked back to the post office. A paper box stood outside and the morning's _Daily Prophet_ flashed at him, headline shouting, "The Dark Lord Vanquished! The Chosen One Prevails!" A photo of an exhausted and overwhelmed Harry, slipping in and out of the borders of the picture and looking down or away, sat under the headline, just next to a photo of people dancing in Diagon Alley last night. He didn't look the hero or the saviour, just a young man who was tired and relieved and grieving all at the same time. 

He glanced around and saw no one looking, so he slipped the paper into his jacket. He couldn't bear to give any money to the slanderous, sycophantic rag. 

Sirius walked quickly back to the Leaky Cauldron, flipped open the paper to the ads and found the listings of houses to let or buy. Simple, plain lines of text filled the section. Safety, security features, out of the way, unobtrusive. They all looked as if they were trying to disappear. 

Except one. Except the large, circular ad near the bottom of the page. _Let me make your dreams come true, floo Martin McGladdin today_ , flashed in multi-coloured letters, and a young, rather pretty wizard in royal blue robes waved and smiled flirtatiously. Sirius didn't know if he had any dreams, but the pure guts of this ad made his decision. He'd stop by Martin's for an appointment this afternoon. 

"Sirius."

Sirius folded the paper in half and looked up at Remus, with a weary smile and a pint, standing next to him. 

"You fancy a pint before you go?" Remus asked hopefully. 

"Course," Sirius said. Martin could wait. "What are you doing here?" 

"Picking up some odds and ends," Remus said. "Dora and Teddy went to her Mum's for a couple of days, help Andromeda deal with some of her Dad's things." He looked into the foam at the top of his glass and then lifted it to his lips.

"Everything all right there?" Sirius asked. 

"Never better," Remus said, shrugging. 

"You're lying," Sirius said. "But that's all right for now."

Remus shook his head and for a moment, Sirius thought he might argue with him. Or tell him the truth.

"We'll see," Remus said. "The dust's not even settled."

"Life goes on, eh Moony?" Sirius asked, gesturing to the crowd.

"Yes, it does, at that," Remus said. "A fact that continually surprises me. We're both still here."

"A rather unlikely event," Sirius agreed. 

"What to do now, then?" Remus asked.

"That's the question," Sirius answered. "I think I'll take a room here for a bit." 

"Well, I'm going to finish this pint. Then I need to go and buy some nappies. That's enough for now," Remus said. "I'm going to make this work, Sirius."

"That's a start," Sirius said, running his hand over the folded paper on the table. 

*

Martin's office was quite different from how Sirius had imagined it. It had a quiet elegance—dark wood desk piled high with files that made him look busy but not unorganized. Photos of homes, their selling points and prices listed underneath, completely covered one of the walls. 

Sirius had expected an assistant, but Martin himself was standing to greet Sirius. He was wearing the same royal blue robe from the photo. Thick, dark hair brushed his collar and large, chocolate brown eyes twinkled in a face that was just as pretty as the picture. 

"Mr. Black, a pleasure," Martin said, a light Spanish richness under the careful, posh, London English. 

Martin had already found three places to show Sirius. In the two days since he'd made the appointment, Martin had moved quickly, hardly surprising given the current circumstances. One of the houses was vacant because the family had been killed by Death Eaters, the second because a Muggle-born family had quickly left the country, and hadn't dared try to sell it before now. The man who had lived in third house, Martin explained, had moved into something smaller, because his youngest child was starting Hogwarts in the fall. 

"I'll have a look at that last one," Sirius said. He spent enough time in places touched by death or prejudice. "Thank you for such quick work," Sirius said. He flashed a bright smile and filed away the fact that Martin's gaze lingered on his a second longer than expected. 

"Right you are, then," Martin said, a flirtatious smile playing on his lips as he reached for Floo Powder and said, “19 Ruthven Bend.” 

Sirius stepped into the green glow and zipped by scenes of celebration glimpsed in other grates, families laughing, friends gathered, until he landed in a hearth and stepped out into a bright, cheerful front room. The ceilings were high. Well-maintained wood floors shone beneath his feet, and a large picture window opened onto a lush, green field, a small river curving just beyond the front garden. 

"That's Ferguson's Brook," Martin said, leaning to speak softly over Sirius' shoulder. "But everyone calls it the Red River because the soil around here is so rich that the water runs nearly red. Apparently excellent gardening."

Sirius angled his head to face Martin and cocked one eyebrow. "Do I _look_ like a gardener?"

"Now that you mention it," Martin chuckled. "Let me show you the library."

"Library?" Sirius asked. The place hadn't looked large enough to contain a library. 

Martin laughed again and beckoned Sirius to follow. They walked through a spacious formal dining room that opened onto a sunroom and beautifully kept back garden beyond. 

The library was small, but comfortable with antique oak shelves reaching from floor to ceiling all the way around. The wood was smooth and traces of magic lingered. There had been some powerful texts here. 

"Previous owner collected rare books," Martin said. "Something told me you might be interested."

"Thank you," Sirius said, breathing in the smell of polished wood and imagining this room full of his books, Harry sitting in a chair by the window and looking up to share something interesting he'd just read, Remus pushing his newly acquired reading specs up his nose as he scanned the spines for a title. 

"You said there's a guest suite, a master suite and another two bedrooms, correct?" Sirius asked, a lightness blooming in his chest. 

"Correct." 

"I'll take it."

Martin blinked. "You'll take it?" he put a hand on his hip. "Without speaking to your solicitor? You don't want to arrange an inspection? You'll just _take it_?"

"Yes," Sirius said. The sunlight streamed into the library windows. "I'll take it."

"How do you know this is what you want so quickly?" Martin asked. His hand still hung on his hip, pushing it forward. His eyes stayed on Sirius' and Sirius felt it, a shift in the sales pitch. A shift in what Martin was after. "You don't need to talk it over with your _wife_?" "

Sirius' musings about the cosy life he'd build faded. Remus was the one who was, at this moment, talking things over with his wife. Martin raised his eyebrows and smiled and a small frisson of interest went through Sirius. 

"No, no wife." Sirius said. "And I generally know what I want when I see it and jump in with both feet. Don't you?"

"I do," Martin said, slowly. He regarded Sirius and tapped one long finger against his lips. "I just like to be certain the water is deep enough before I dive. I was fairly certain. I just thought I'd stick in a toe first."

Sirius laughed, this old dance coming back to him, the memory of walking into a room and knowing he could have nearly anyone he wanted. "Certain, were you? How?" 

For various stupid reasons, people rarely assumed that he was gay. They often used to assume Remus was, for other stupid reasons. Sirius had always thought Remus probably was as well—for purely not stupid reasons—but maintained that he was bisexual because he was pragmatic and liked to keep his options open. Of course, if that were the case, marrying Dora had been an odd choice. It was a bit of an odd choice anyway. He was terrifically fond of each of them, but they still, after all these months, seemed such a mismatched couple. 

"Mr. Black—"

"Sirius."

" _Sirius_ ," Martin said. "I make a living of reading people, figuring out what they want. And incidentally, not many straight, single men answer my particular ad."

Sirius leant against the door frame. Banon's immediate interest had perplexed him until Sirius had figured out that he was just as much a lost soul and a prisoner as Sirius had been. They both took what they needed. 

Martin was fit and free and here he was looking at Sirius like he was the best thing he'd seen in weeks. Sirius smiled with the sense of delighted anticipation, of mutual attraction and want. Molly had accused him of being in a state of arrested development. Maybe he'd just have to prove her right. Perhaps he did have some adolescent urges to work through.

"Do you do well?" Sirius asked. He pushed his hair off his shoulders and raised his eyebrows, questioning. "At this business of reading people, at figuring out what people want?" 

Martin smiled and said silkily, "I do very well, as a matter of fact." 

"Hmm, I'll wager you do," Sirius said, smoothly pushing himself away from the doorjamb. He closed the distance between him and Martin, stopping just short of treading upon Martin's toes. "Picking anything up?" 

"Believe I am."

Sirius grasped the front of Martin's robe and pulled him flush against him, pressing their lips together. He changed the pressure, pulling back and leaning forward in turn, working slowly, building a well-crafted kiss. It has been years. He could count on one hand the number of times he and Banon had kissed, but he felt Martin respond and, yes, this was something he still knew how to do. Martin's tongue flicked along his lips and slid in when Sirius relaxed into it, teasing along Martin's tongue. Martin explored his mouth, curling their tongues together and then slipping in and out, a warm, sensuous slid that settled, hot and wanting, in Sirius' gut. 

"Mmm," Sirius moaned when Martin pulled back.

"Good," Martin breathed, mouthing along Sirius' neck. "I thought you might be one of those men who saves kissing for his true love." Martin said _true love_ as if it were something vile and stupid.

"And miss a kiss like that? That would be a shame," he said, tilting his head to give Martin better access to the tendon he was nipping. "Now, why don't you show me what other talents you have?" 

Martin's nimble hands moved down Sirius' chest and stomach. "Yes," he said, with a pleased little smile as he rubbed a hand over the bulge of Sirius' cock. Sirius rolled his hips, pushing into Martin's firm grasp.

Martin's robe was incredibly silky and cool under Sirius' fingers. The delicate silver buttons flipped open easily to reveal a silk vest and shorts, a delicately muscled torso, and the pink tip of a lovely hard cock peeking from the waistband of the boxers. 

"Mm, lovely," Sirius purred. He leaned in for another spine-tingling kiss, his tongue sliding between full, red lips, his thumb rubbing over the slick head of Martin's cock. 

Martin's hand was rubbing over Sirius' erection, keeping pace with the rhythm of their kiss. Sirius moved his hand to Martin's chest and chuckled when Martin groaned and jerked his hips, chasing the contact. 

"Patience," Sirius muttered, loosening his own robe.

"I didn't get where I am by being a patient man."

He was not one to take lightly, by any means, Sirius thought as he found himself pressed up against the wall, robe open and Martin's hand slipping into his pants. Martin yanked down his shorts and pressed against Sirius, rubbing his cock against Sirius' bare hip. 

"Then, _fuck_ , ah, go faster," Sirius gasped. 

Martin's hand was stroking him, squeezing hard and rubbing his thumb over the slit on every stroke. He sped up and Sirius reached for Martin, wanting to feel Martin in his hand. Martin's cock was hard as stone and he rocked back and forth, pushing Sirius against the wall with each thrust. 

Martin panted and muttered something in Spanish. Sirius wrapped his hand more tightly around Martin's cock and thrust harder into the hand around his. He snaked his other hand between them, feeling along the warm, smooth skin until he reached a pebbled nipple and rolled it between his fingers, groaning when Martin's cock twitched in response. Martin dropped his head to Sirius' shoulder and bit down, and his cock pulsed and throbbed in Sirius' hand. He didn't slow his hand on Sirius' cock, moving even faster now, slippery-hot with his come. 

"Fuck, fuck, _harder_ ," Sirius groaned. "Harder, that's it, yeah, like that." He fucked into Martin's hand again and again until the pleasure peeked and his orgasm surged from his body.

They stood in the empty library, slumped against the wall, catching their breath. 

"That was a more pleasant afternoon that I had expected," Sirius said when he slid away from the wall and straightened his robe.

"I'm pleased to hear it." 

"Is that how you close deals with all your clients?"

"Only very select ones, Mr. Black," Martin said, smiling. He moved his wand down his robe, removing every wrinkle and smudge and he looked as fresh and put-together as if he'd just begun his day. "Shall I leave you a moment to look around your new home? We can meet tomorrow to arrange the details." 

"Thank you, that would be perfect," Sirius said. "I do appreciate your attention to detail."

"The pleasure was mine," Martin said, bowing slightly and tossing a handful of powder into the floo.

Sirius walked from room to room, losing himself in the bright afternoon, relaxed and sated, he completely lost track of time. There was a handsome guest suite where Harry could have all the privacy a young man could want, a beautiful master suite where Sirius could have all the privacy _he_ might want, a large, sunny kitchen with room enough for a table, and the spacious back garden with high hedges all around. And the cosy library that was already his favourite. All of the rooms were bright and charming and he could see himself living in each of them. It had been a very long time since Sirius had let himself imagine any sort of a future for himself. 

He still had no vision of what it might be beyond tomorrow, but he allowed himself to believe that it would come, and it would be here.

 

**Six: Who Balance Ourselves**

"Oi, Sirius!" 

Harry's voice rang through the house and Sirius stopped where he was, opening boxes of books in the library. He smiled. 

"In here," Sirius called.

Harry appeared at the door, tall and strong, grinning and relaxed. He held a trunk aloft in front of him. 

"Where do you want this?"

Sirius frowned, trying to remember what was in that trunk. "Crikey, I think that's old school stuff. Put it in the middle bedroom, would you?"

"Can I look through it?" Harry asked, laughing. 

"Not unless you want to learn some things best left unknown," Sirius shouted after Harry as he walked down the hallway.

"That's supposed to keep me out?" Harry said. "Thought you knew me better than that."

"Don't say I didn't warn you." 

Sirius continued pulling books out of boxes—organising them by subject and author. Remus would take the piss for an hour if he saw him. 

Harry stepped back into the room, stowing his wand in his back pocket and brushing his hands off on his jeans. "Right," he said. "What's next?"

"Lunch," Sirius said. "I'm famished." 

"Brilliant, me too," Harry grinned. 

Ten minutes later, thanks to Tom's new Floo delivery, they had ham sandwiches, salad, and hot, greasy, chips. 

"Now, _this_ was an inspired business plan," Sirius said. "Hard to believe he's only just done it." He turned the paper sack of chips out onto a plate and sprinkled vinegar over half of them. Harry grimaced. 

"So, you thinking of opening a take-away service?" Harry asked, carefully picking up some vinegar-free chips.

The simple, unfathomable pleasure of sitting and sharing a bag of chips with Harry on a warm summer day, in his own kitchen, where dark magic had never been practiced and Kreacher had never scurried, was nearly overwhelming. 

"Not on your life," Sirius said. "I suppose I'll do something at some point, but for now, settling in here and making sure you pass your NEWTS is enough for me. Here, what do you, Ron, and Neville need for your flat?"

"Er, it'll just be me, actually," Harry said, ruffling his hair until it looked as if he'd run through a hedge backwards. 

"Sorry?" Sirius asked. He put down the ham sandwich, with no small amount of regret. 

"Well, Ron's decided to stay at the Burrow. He doesn't want to leave his parents and Ginny right now, with everything. His Mum also implied that she didn't believe he'd get many NEWTS if we had our own flat in Diagon Alley."

"And Neville?"

"Same thing, really," Harry said, shrugging. "His Gran's not one to trifle with, but he doesn't want to leave her alone. If you ask me, they've only just started to know each other and he wants to spend some time with her. Neville and Ron both have family that need them, so, there you are. That's me, giving it a go on my own."

" _Harry_ ," Sirius said, a dull ache in his chest. 

"Before you say it," Harry’s voice was firm, but he averted his eyes, "I know that you're my family. And Molly and Arthur said I could move in there as well."

"When were you going to tell me this?" Sirius asked. He'd been more than fine with Harry, Ron, and Neville taking a flat together. That's what he would have loved to have done when he was their age. And to say that the three boys had proven themselves capable of taking care of themselves, and of each other, was an understatement of astronomical proportions. 

"I...I suppose now," Harry said, furrowing his brow. "What's the problem?"

"I don't like it," Sirius said, shaking his head, his stomach in a knot. Everything he'd heard during those early days of his imprisonment, the roaming and restlessness of the Death Eaters, Alice and Frank, raced through his head. 

"I can afford it on my own, you know that," Harry said. "I can take care of myself. I pretty well always have." 

Harry looked so young in that moment, defiant and wanting to prove himself. 

"You misunderstand me, Harry. I don't think it's safe, and not because I think you can't take care of yourself. Not all of the Death Eaters are dead or in Azkaban. I think Frank and Alice Longbottom were pretty well able to take care of themselves, and you know what happened to them. I wish you'd move in here, and failing that, I wish you'd take Molly and Arthur up on their offer."

"I don't want to be a bother to anyone," Harry said.

"What?" Sirius choked as his breath left his lungs. "Do you think I bought a house with four bedrooms because I like a change of pillow every night? Harry, one of them is _yours_. I promised your parents that I would be there for you. I promised that you would always have a home with me, and you will—whether you need it or not. I didn't push it before because you had plans with your friends and I understand that."

"Oh," Harry said softly, swallowing hard, he dragged a chip through some salt on the plate. "Oh, I—"

A rap on the door made both of them jump.

"Sirius Black," a cheerful voice sang.

Sirius leapt up to find Martin standing in the doorway with a large basket of fruit.

"Fruit for the fr—oh. Hello," Martin said. His eyes darted to Harry and his eyebrows assumed a surprised arch. 

"Martin," Sirius said, a little more loudly than he had intended. "Harry, this is the man who found this wonderful house."

"Hello," Harry said, nodding absently.

"I brought you a housewarming gift," Martin said, pursing his lips and nodding at the fruit. "Harry Potter. Honoured to meet you," Martin said, smirking at Sirius. "I must say, I'm impressed."

"Harry is my _godson_ ," Sirius grumbled, scowling. 

"Mm, I thought he'd be your _cousin_."

"Thank you for coming round, Martin," Sirius said firmly. "And thank you for the gift, but I'm not wanting fruit at the moment."

Martin laughed, and turned to go, leaving the basket. "In case you want some another time. It is _delicious_ , as you know. Enjoy the house."

"What's he on about?" Harry asked.

"Nothing for you to be bothered about." He grabbed the fruit basket and stepped into the kitchen to leave it on the counter. "And don't try and change the subject. Harry, be sensible—"

"You're telling me to be sensible?" Harry chortled as Sirius walked up to him in the nearly empty front room.

"I am the best person to tell you to be sensible, because I am fully aware of the consequences of not being sensible," Sirius said, crossing his arms and moving so he could look down on Harry. Only he couldn't. The little bugger was nearly eye-to-eye with him. 

Harry squared his shoulders and lifted his head. "I _am_ being sensible."

"Listen," Sirius said, sighing. "I know you can take care of yourself. I know you’re of age. I know you’re more skilled and powerful than most wizards twice your age. I also know that there are still people out there who would like to see you dead, or gain their fifteen minutes by mucking about with you. And you may well want to hex me for this, but it is my bloody job to look after you."

"And who do you think I expect to help me lug all my gear and put protective charms about the place?"

" _Harry_ —"

Sirius turned quickly to a whooshing sound from the floo. 

"Sirius?" Remus called, his head glowing in the fireplace. "Do you have a moment?"

"Hello, Remus," Harry called.

"Oh, hello, Harry. Perhaps I should come another time."

"Don't be stupid," Sirius said. "You come anytime you like. I'm sure Harry'd like to see you. We haven't seen enough of you lately."

Remus pulled back and then landed on the bare, shining floor, brushing soot off of the dark blue robe Sirius had given him for his birthday. He didn't move, and it looked as if he'd forgotten how to work his feet.

"All right, Remus?" Sirius asked.

"Yes, yes," Remus said absently. "Fine."

"Well, I should be off anyway," Harry said. "Good to see you Remus. You, Tonks, and Teddy'll come round to tea once I've my flat?" 

Remus coughed.

"We're not finished, young man," Sirius shouted after Harry as he turned to the Floo. 

"Did you just call me _young man_?" Harry asked, only half-indignant, reaching into the small urn on the mantelpiece. 

The moment Harry stepped into the floo to go, Sirius said, "Right then. Sit and out with it."

Remus looked around the living room, "You've nowhere to sit." 

"In the kitchen," Sirius said. He walked through the arched doorway and Remus followed, looking dazed. "What is it?" Sirius asked gently.

"I—I wanted you to be the first to know," Remus said, seeming to pull each word from himself with great effort. Sirius waited. "It's over. Between Tonks and me, I mean."

"Oh," Sirius said. "What's happened?" As soon as he said it, he felt it was a stupid thing to ask. He'd known they weren't a match for...well, since before Tonks was pregnant. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Remus said. "It's a bit expected, I suppose. We tried, you know. Both of us. Thought we should for Teddy." He stood again, pulling agitatedly at his hair. "I should go back again. Give it another go. I'm not sure she'd have me at this point. It's my fault, really. Christ, what was I thinking?"

"Is she all right?" Sirius said, and Remus flashed him a hurt look. "I don't mean I thought you'd hurt her intentionally. I just...this is a bit awkward. I'm mucking this up."

"No, you're fine. She's at her mum's. We talked about it this morning when Teddy was napping. It was inevitable. We had the war and the Order in common, and then there was Teddy. Turns out that's not enough. I know what it was like to grow up with parents who couldn't stand the sight of each other. I don't want to do that to him, or to us. I care for Tonks and I want us to have a chance to still be friends." Remus seemed to run out of steam after his speech, sinking back into the chair.

"That's very sensible," Sirius said slowly. 

"Well, most of it's copied from Tonks," Remus said, laughing self-derisively. "But she said what we were both thinking." 

"What now?"

"Well, I suppose I move back to my parents’ old place. It turns out the bloke who's been letting it had a sudden urge to return to Ireland," Remus said shrugging, his hands moving on the table as if he were holding a cup of tea.

"Teddy?"

A wave of pain washed over Remus' features. "We'll have to work that out. I can't quite imagine that I won't wake up with his ridiculous little face next to mine every morning." Remus clenched his fist in front of his mouth and coughed to cover the break in his voice. "I...we'll come up with something. We were spending more and more time apart anyway, where we sleep will be the only difference, really."

"You could move in here," Sirius said. "There's room, and Teddy would be welcome. He'd see Harry more that way, as well." 

Remus sucked in a deep breath, his brow furrowed. "I have a house, Sirius. If it wasn’t for Teddy, I might have just taken you up on it. But I want Teddy to have a home with me."

"Of course," Sirius said, feeling unaccountably disappointed. It wasn't as if he had really expected Remus to take him up on it. 

"Can I just sit here for a bit?" 

"Course, Moony," Sirius said, laying his fingers lightly on Remus' arm. "Stay as long as you like."

*

Remus stayed all afternoon, often sitting and staring, occasionally helping Sirius move something or make sure a photo was hanging straight. 

He left when Teddy would be waking from his afternoon nap. The move wouldn't happen today. They were planning to take their time, apparently. It was just that the decision had been made. Sirius tried to imagine what it would be like to go through the motions of life when they both knew it was over. Sirius was glad that Tonks had Andromeda, and her friendships with Molly and Fleur. It meant he didn't have to choose sides. 

Remus stepped back into the Floo and Sirius had his new home to himself, the few boxes stacked in the living room, the trunk where Harry had dropped it. He walked to look out of the window at the river, and his footsteps on the perfect wood floors echoed through the empty house. He watched the river flow by for several minutes. This was not what he had had in mind. 

Summer's bounty spilled from the fruit basket on the kitchen counter, lush and perfect. He ran his fingers over the smooth, unblemished skins. He hadn't noticed before the pretty little bit of parchment with _Eat Me_ , written in impeccable bright blue script. Perhaps he had a taste for peaches, after all.

 

**Seven: What The Locust Blossoms**

The garish neon signs on the recently reopened Weasley's Wizard Wheezes storefront glared straight into Harry's bedroom window. Sirius muttered a charm, moving the bed to the other side of the room. Down the narrow corridor in the kitchen, Ron and Harry were unpacking the crates of dishes, pots and pans, and silverware Sirius had bought for Harry. The one good thing about those beastly Muggles he'd been left with was that Harry knew how to cook. Sirius didn't have to worry about him starving or eating chips every night—as Sirius had until Remus had taught him his way around a boiled egg. 

Harry and Ron stood near the window, whispering. Ron looked as if he were shouting, although his voice didn't carry. As soon as Sirius stepped into the room, Harry shoved something into his pocket.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked.

"Nothing," Harry said. "Anyone for lunch? I think we've been at it long enough."

Ron glared pointedly at Harry and jerked his head toward Sirius.

"Leaky again? Or I fancy pizza if anyone's game." Harry said, with a forced air of casualness.

Ron opened his eyes unbelievably wide and pursed his lips. 

Sirius crossed his arms. "I think you'd better tell me what's up before Ron bursts a blood vessel."

"Nothing, it's nothing," Harry said, shrugging.

That was apparently what Ron needed to spur him on. "It's _not_ nothing," he said loudly. "I'm sorry, mate, but it is most definitely _something_."

"It is nothing," Harry shouted. "Shut it, Ron. You know how he gets."

"Sorry? How I get?" Sirius asked. "Right then." He pointed his wand at Harry, and saw Ron's eyes go wide again as Harry pulled his out, but Sirius was still just that hair faster. " _Accio_ parchment."

Sirius had a moment of regret as he considered that this might be private. No, if it were, Ron wouldn't have insisted Harry tell him. 

"Go on," Harry grumbled at Sirius, and he shot a glare at Ron. "You’ve got it now."

Sirius unfolded the parchment and his blood froze. In loopy, green ink were the words, _The Dark Lord will never be gone so long as his followers are loyal. Revenge will be sweet, Harry Potter._

"What the hell?" he bellowed.

"It's a prank," Harry said. "Kingsley said this sort of thing might happen."

"It's a fucking poor excuse for a prank," Sirius said, gritting his teeth. "This is a _threat_ , Harry." 

"I knew you would worry too much," Harry said, his voice pleading. "I'll tell Kingsley. I promise."

"You bloody won't tell Kingsley," Sirius retorted, pocketing the note. "I will. And I know you want to stay in this flat, but this changes things. If you won't move in with me or to the Burrow, I think we should cast a _Fidelius_ , at least until we know what this is about." 

"I am _not_ living under a _Fidelius_ ," Harry growled. "The bloody war is _over_. We won. I am not living the way my parents did when they died."

"All right. I can't pretend I don't understand that," Sirius answered, pacing. "But I don't want you or your friends staying here alone and I'm owling Remus to come and help us put more protections on the place. And if _anything_ else happens, you are to tell me immediately or some deranged Death Eater prankster will be the least of your worries."

*

Kingsley seemed to agree with Harry. He had received a note two days earlier in the same green ink, claiming to have illicit photos of Kingsley in compromising positions with Igor Karkaroff. As Kingsley was fairly certain this was an empty threat, he was inclined to believe that Harry's note was as well. 

"You and Remus do your worst," Kingsley had said. "We still have Aurors in Diagon Alley around the clock as it is. I'll add one and have them check on Harry routinely. I don't think you need to get your knickers in such a twist, Sirius."

Sirius didn't agree—he had every right to get his knickers in a twist. Only Remus seemed as concerned as he was. The two of them cast every spell they could think of to warn Harry of unknown wizards approaching and increased the security on the door and the floo. They were at it all morning and Sirius could not shake the hollow feeling in his chest. This was too fucking close to nineteen years ago. 

"Anyone want to get out of the city a bit when we're finished?" Remus asked. He looked tired and drawn, like a man who desperately needed a day in the country. 

"I'm for it," Sirius said. "Harry, Ron? Get away from this for a bit? It'd do us all some good." 

"Love to," Harry said. He seemed to have forgiven Sirius for forcing the issue, and instead had become really intent on learning the magic that he and Remus had been working. "But Ron and I have lessons." 

"Yeah, thanks for asking the tutor to include me, Sirius. I don't think I'd have a snowball's chance of passing NEWTS without it," Ron said, nodding.

Sirius frowned but Harry shook his head almost imperceptibly. "Er, you're more than welcome," Sirius said.

"Right then, we're off," Harry said quickly as he and Ron left.

*

Remus and Sirius walked down the back stairs into the bright, breezy afternoon. Diagon Alley was bustling again, and only a few storefronts were still left empty. 

"What was that all that about?" Remus asked. 

"Harry must have paid the tutor I hired for him to teach Ron as well and told Ron I did it."

"Hm, that sounds about right for Harry," Remus said. "Where did you find the tutor?" His voice suddenly had a false, tinny quality.

"McGonagall recommended him," Sirius said. An uneasy feeling was creeping into his chest. "I reckoned Harry and I would end up not speaking if I tried to do it." 

"You're right there," Remus said, with a slightly forced cheeriness to his voice. "Let's get a move on. I could do with that fresh air." 

The footpath along Ferguson's Brook had as much fresh air as anywhere, so they ended up strolling near Ruthven Bend. Sirius gave Remus as many openings to talk about Tonks as he could, but Remus doggedly avoided every single one. 

"How's Teddy?" Sirius asked. "You haven't brought him round. I thought that—"

"He's fine. Grows while you're looking at him. How is Harry holding up?" Remus asked. "Any other thoughts on the secret admirer?"

"No." Sirius allowed Remus the abrupt change of subject and bent to pick up a smooth flat stone. He flicked his wrist and watched it skim across the surface of the creek, bouncing five times before it sank beneath the surface. "I just hope that Kingsley is right."

The brook eased along at the same pace as they were walking, lazy and slow in the afternoon heat. Blossoms from the cherry trees lining the banks drifted on the surface.

"Where are you at the full moon these days?" he asked, absently tossing a stick into the creek. It landed on one of the pale pink flowers and hovered for a moment before sinking, bringing them both down together. 

"Cellar at my house," Remus said. "I've gone there since Teddy was born." 

"What about here, Remus?" Sirius asked. "Old times' sake. There's space. You don't have to be in a basement." He was several steps ahead of Remus before he realised he'd picked up his pace.

"The cellar is fine," Remus said with finality. "Running in the open is too risky, and you know it. Some of our old times shouldn't be recreated."

"I could come and stay with you tonight, even if you insist in being in the basement," Sirius said. He picked up another round, flat stone. He managed six skips out of this one, disturbing the calm surface of the brook.

"No, Sirius," Remus said and his tone told Sirius that the matter was finished. 

"I’ll bring you something to eat in the morning," Sirius said, kicking at a stone on the ground. It scuttled along the bank and rolled into the water with a _plop_. "I can still do that without endangering the public."

"Can you?" Remus asked. The sunlight caught the silver in his hair, and his smile deepened the crow's feet on either side of his eyes. 

"Prat," Sirius said, shoving him playfully on the shoulder, and Remus' laughter was just as it had been as a boy.

*

Sirius pulled on new, dark blue denims and tucked in the white linen shirt. His hair fell casually around his face, healthy and shining again. If you looked, you could still see the traces of Azkaban—a sharpness in his cheekbones, a different hue to his skin, a hardness about his expression. He rolled the dog collar he'd pulled out of his old trunk between his fingers. It would sit unobtrusively under the white shirt, just visible at his throat. 

He dropped the collar into a drawer. He wasn't quite that lad anymore; he was older, harder, but according to a daft piece in the _Daily Prophet_ society pages, a most eligible bachelor. Harry had clipped the article and sent it to him, highlighting the line: _The handsome, wealthy war hero has recently been seen purchasing a new home and frequenting the Leaky Cauldron with his famous godson. He is rumoured to be looking for a lucky witch with whom to share it all._

Harry had been sent into hysterics and was thrilled that they were focussing on someone other than him for a bit. Sirius imagined a photographer from the _Prophet_ following him to the Muggle pub, and when he reached the end of the hall, he turned to the kitchen instead of the front door and decided to make a cup of tea and think about it.

"Sirius, you home?" Harry's voice called through the floo.

Silently thanking Harry for his timing, Sirius called, "Harry, come through."

Harry stepped onto the thick hearth rug and took in Sirius' appearance with mild surprise. 

"Were you going out?"

"Perhaps," Sirius said. "I'd rather visit with you, given the choice."

"You look—" Harry said, flustered. "I didn't know you still _had_ Muggle clothes. I'll go and let you get on with it."

"No, stay if you like," Sirius said, finding himself immensely relieved. "Silly notion. Not that you need a reason, but what brings you here on a Saturday evening?" 

"I thought I should tell you—" Harry stopped, looking at the window. "Hang on. It's the full moon. You don't spend that with Remus?"

"No, not since we left Grimmauld Place. Not that I didn't offer," Sirius said. His voice had a snappish quality that he hadn't quite intended. "Tell me what?"

"I've had another note."

" _What_? What did it say?" 

Harry sighed, "Before you say it, I told Kingsley and gave him the note just before I came here."

"What did it say?"

"It didn't say anything. It was a drawing of the Dark Mark. Kingsley's had one as well. He still thinks that it's someone wanting attention."

Sirius scowled. He couldn't decide if it was comforting or more worrisome that Kingsley was getting them, too. 

"Either way, you'll stay here tonight. Your room's made up already." 

Harry smiled a little wearily and ran a hand through his hair. "I won't argue this time." 

"Come on then," Sirius said. "I'll just change and get us some drinks."

Five minutes later, he had on a robe, was holding two bottles of Butterbeer and a bag of crisps and was settling in next to Harry on the settee.

"Let's get it out of the way first, and then I'll leave it," Sirius said, trying to think how he'd say what he needed to Harry without sounding like a mother hen. "I promise."

Harry chuckled and took a swig of his Butterbeer. "Go on."

"I think you should move in here. And not only because I’m not convinced that these notes are nothing to worry about. I've told you before that I want you here, and that stands," Sirius said, tapping his fingers on his Butterbeer. "How's this: if you lie low here, then we can work on figuring out where they are coming from, maybe set some more serious charms on your flat—make sure anyone who comes by unannounced doesn't leave until we want them to." 

"That's not bad. I'll think about it," Harry said. 

Sirius nodded. "That's all I ask."

"Good. Then we can talk about something else," Harry said. "So tell me where you were going tonight until I spoiled your plans." 

"Nowhere. I don't know," Sirius said. He laughed. "It's a bit ridiculous, but I was going to go and see if a couple of Muggle pubs I remember in London are still there." Harry had a determined look on his face. Sirius, anxious to steer the subject away from his waylaid plans, asked, "How's Ginny?"

"Fine," Harry said. He considered Sirius for a moment. "We're still seeing each other. I'll see her when she's home on holiday, and we write."

"Harry, do you—"

"If you try and give me a sex talk, I'm leaving, Death Eater doodles or no," Harry said, gesturing at Sirius with his bottle. 

"Far be it from me," Sirius laughed, completely relieved to let it go. 

"So, were you, eh, going out with someone?" Harry asked, pulling at a shoelace and flushing red. 

"No, I was just going out," Sirius said. 

"Really?"

"Something on your mind?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really. But if you were going out with someone in particular, I wouldn't want to get in the way. I know it was stupid, but that bit in the _Prophet_ made me think. If you were seeing someone, I'd be glad of it. For you, that is."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"I mean, you've got a house and you're alone, and I was just thinking that if there were a woman you wanted to spend time with, well, that would be good." 

"Harry, I'm alone a lot," Sirius said. "I'm not lonely. There's a difference."

"Yeah, I know."

"Is that why you won't move in here?" Sirius asked, tilting his head to look Harry in the eye. "Are you afraid to get in my way? Because I really have to say, it should be the other way around."

"No, I just want to give it a go at my own flat. Honestly, that’s it."

"Good. Although I still think you should move in here, there's plenty of room," Sirius said. "And Harry?" Sirius took a quick sip of his Butterbeer and then a deep breath. "If there were to be someone, it wouldn't be a woman." He paused and waited. He hadn't meant to have this conversation, but continuing and not saying anything was too close to lying. "I'm gay. I don't know if you knew, but I want you to."

"Oh," Harry said, a thoughtful expression in his bright eyes. "All right, then. _Now_ are you seeing someone you'll tell me about?"

"No," Sirius laughed. "Is that really all you have to say? You can ask me anything you like."

"Did my dad know?"

"Yes, of course he did. He was the first person I told and I will never forget what he said. I was terrified. No one talked about it back then. I didn't think I knew anyone who was gay," Sirius said, turning on the settee to face Harry. "Your mum knew as well, by the time we'd left school. It's not something I keep a secret. I suppose you and I have just never talked about it."

"What did my dad say?" Harry asked, with the anxious and hopeful look he had every time he asked Sirius or Remus about his parents. "When you told him."

Sirius smiled at the cherished memory. "He said he breathed a sigh of relief for girls everywhere. After we'd talked a bit, we sneaked down to Hogsmeade and tried, and failed, to talk Rosmerta into slipping something stronger into our Butterbeer. On the way there, he thanked me for telling him." 

Harry grinned from ear to ear and leaned closer to Sirius. "All right, then, back to what I was saying before, if there was a man you were interested in, it might be nice for you to be seeing someone," Harry said, a fond expression on his face. "And I can't _wait_ to read that one in the society page."

Sirius laughed. "Thank you, Harry. I think I've enough to be getting on with, watching over you and deciding what I want to do when I grow up. But thank you. You really are like your father."

Harry beamed and they sat for a long moment, just sipping their drinks. Sirius felt James' presence, full and real, in his chest.

"Sirius? Were you and...never mind." Harry broke off, working the label off his bottle. 

"Come on, now. We've come this far. What is it?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Were you and Remus ever together?"

"What?"

"Sorry," Harry said quickly. "Never mind, it's none of my business."

"What would make you think that?"

"Well, you're such good friends and since you both fancy men, I just thought it would have made sense," Harry said, shrugging, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"No, I mean what makes you think Remus fancies men?"

"Oh, that," Harry said. "Once Ron heard him and Charlie—"

"Remus and Charlie?" Sirius blurted. 

Harry gave him a puzzled look. "Heard him and Charlie talking about blokes. Actually I think Ron told me because he thought it was a laugh that Charlie had hung about with Tonks and then Remus and her got together." 

"Oh," Sirius said, slowing his breath and shaking his head to rid it of the image of Remus and Charlie together. Charlie who was young and gorgeous and, Sirius had been fortunate enough to discover, sucked cock with the same gusto and dedication as he did anything else. "We, Remus and I, talked about it once upon a time—joked about it actually. You're probably too young to have had this conversation with anyone, but we joked that if we were both alone at 40, we'd take up with each other. But it was just pissing in the wind. In those days, neither of us thought we'd make it to 40."

"Oh, I was just thinking..."

"Well stop," Sirius chuckled. "Do you think you'll still be with Ginny when you're 40?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno."

"Do you want to be?"

"Sometimes I think so," Harry said. "Sometimes I don't know."

"Well, you’ve got lots of time," Sirius said. "You asked where I was going tonight. I was going for a drink at a pub where mostly gay blokes go, or used to at any rate—just to have a pint and some conversation. If there's ever anyone you should meet, I'll make sure you do. Agreed?"

"Agreed. And I get veto power," Harry said, grinning.

"Cheek," Sirius said, grinning back, his heart full and warm. 

"Oh, right," Harry said, squirming a little on the settee. "There was something else. It's about the tutor. He's nice enough and a good teacher. It's just that sometimes I think Ron and I actually know more than him. I wanted to ask if you'd be terribly put out if I wanted to sack him and hire someone else."

"Do you have someone in mind?" Sirius asked.

"Remus, actually," Harry said in a rush. "I don't know if he'd let us pay him, but maybe if I pay instead of you. And Hermione said if he's the teaching us, she wants in on some of the lessons. I'd still pay him, but we could make it clear the fee’s from all of us. Do you think he'd do it?"

"I think it's a brilliant idea," Sirius said. "You won't get a better teacher. I'm sure he'll want to do it, it's convincing him to take payment that will be a trick." 

"I'll Floo him tomorrow," Harry said, with a contented smile.

The light of the moon filled the room, about half way to moon set. "And now, we should get some sleep. It'll be morning in two ticks." He stretched his arms over his head and yawned, reluctantly pulling himself off the settee. "I promised Remus I'd come by and give him breakfast."

Harry snickered. "Did you now?"

"You're going to be insufferable aren't you?" Sirius said, chuckling affectionately. 

"Night, Sirius. And thanks," Harry said, heading toward the room that Sirius had always meant to be his.

"Night, Harry." 

*

Sirius sat up for the third time in five minutes. He grabbed his pillow and punched it into shape, flopped onto his back, and gave up trying to go to sleep. 

He'd wondered about Remus and Charlie, once or twice—they had seemed awfully chummy after Remus had been in Eastern Europe for a few weeks, and Charlie definitely flirted with Remus. Charlie flirted with everyone. His cock stirred and he shifted his hips. He couldn't see them together for more than a one-off, just friends helping each other along. 

He wondered what they might have done together. Once, in what seemed like a previous life, a very pissed Remus had told him that the thing he'd miss most if he were to be with a woman was sucking a bloke off. Sirius slipped his hand down under the sheet and lightly grasped his half-hard cock. Maybe Remus pushed Charlie against the wall and fell to his knees, pulling open Charlie's leather breeches. He stroked the length of his cock as it filled. 

But no, that wasn't quite right. Other way round. Burly, bawdy Charlie on his knees in front of Remus. He'd open that brown robe Remus always wore when he travelled and run his rough hands over the soft skin of Remus' belly. Sirius let out a sigh and smoothed his fingers over the head of his cock. He'd open those full lips of his and pull Remus' cock into his mouth. Remus would probably stay very still. He'd stay still and quiet, make Charlie work for it, until Charlie sucked around the tip just so and Remus would have to roll his hips. Sirius stifled a moan. Charlie would work his mouth all the way down Remus' cock and Remus would thread his fingers through Charlie's shaggy hair. Remus' cock would be hot and heavy on his tongue, just nudging the back of his throat as Remus couldn't help but start to thrust. Sirius circled his cock with his fist and started to push up into it. He would glance up, just as Remus started to pant and plead and he'd look into those deep brown eyes and watch them go wide and even darker with desire. Remus would be looking down, watching his cock slide in and out between the red lips. And Remus watching him would drive him mad, so that he would have to touch himself, stroke his own cock as he watched Remus come undone. And then, finally, Remus would come, murmuring his name and looking into his eyes, hands tugging at his hair. 

Sirius turned on his side, still gripping his cock as the aftershocks of his orgasm rolled through him. The moon, full and silvery-bright, had risen above the magnificent oak tree outside his bedroom window, washing everything with soft light. He burrowed his head into his pillow, letting the heavy, sated feeling push out the slight tinge of discomfort. In no time he would need to go and take care of Remus, and he needed to sleep. 

 

**Eight: Prowl Fang'd and Four-Footed**

Sirius tapped his wand on Remus' door and heard the grind and slide of metal against metal as the latch and the chain disconnected. He stepped softly into the foyer, kicking his shoes off on the mat next to Remus'. The door to the basement was off the front hallway, and it was ajar. 

"Remus?" Sirius called quietly. "Moony?"

Remus wasn't lying on the faded blue couch. "Moony?" Sirius called again, dropping the basket of food he'd packed on the table and walking down the hallway to the bedroom that had belonged to Remus' parents. 

Remus was in bed, under a blanket and a duvet, despite the warm summer morning. His eyes were closed and his breathing was soft and even. His light brown hair was streaked with more grey than the last time Sirius had seen it and, even in his peaceful sleep, he looked drawn, bruises of exhaustion under his eyes. Sirius reached and smoothed the tangled hair off his brow, so gently, and felt a wave of tenderness, old and familiar. 

He would let him sleep. Let him sleep, and make him a fabulous meal that would restore his strength when he awoke. 

"Mmm," Remus sighed. "Sirius? That you?"

"Morning," Sirius said, coming back to stand next to the bed. "Go back to sleep."

"Tea?" Remus said imploringly.

Sirius laughed softly. "Tea, Moony." 

He padded quietly back to the kitchen. The door to the bedroom that had been Remus' as a child was open. Next to the narrow twin bed was a little cot with a quilt decorated with dragons. A stuffed dog, black, Sirius noted with satisfaction, sat on the pillow. A purple ball sat forlornly in the corner, and a stack of picture books covered the bedside table. 

Sirius pulled the door closed and continued to the kitchen. 

In no time, he made his way back down the hallway, tray laden with eggs and toast and tea. Remus was sitting up in bed, looking exhausted but intact. 

"I can't eat all that, Sirius," he said, smiling and reaching for a cup of tea.

"It's not all for you," Sirius said. He grabbed a piece of toast and dipped it in the runny centre of an egg.

"Incorrigible," Remus said, grabbing a plate for himself. "Talk to me. Tell me something. What are you up to these days?"

"I'm to go over to old Xenophilius' tomorrow. They need some help. Apparently the Quibbler's circulation is higher than ever. Xenophilius was looking for someone to help answer letters, and Arthur suggested me. Apparently he thinks I've got nothing to do."

"You don't."

"That's neither here nor there," Sirius said, swatting Remus' blanket-covered leg. "Want to come along? Might be a laugh."

"Not sure I'll be up to the Lovegoods’ company by tomorrow. Have to be on your game to spend an afternoon with Luna," Remus said, chuckling lightly. A shadow of worry crossed his face. "I'm seeing Tonks tomorrow. I'll take Teddy for the weekend, and we decided we should talk about giving it another try. For Teddy's sake."

"Really?" Sirius said. "That's unexpected. But good, the right thing I mean. Best to be certain."

Sirius suddenly felt off. If the eggs were spoiled and he'd made Remus ill today of all days, he'd feel like a right shit. 

 

 **Nine: Coarse Smut of Beasts**

It was still there. The pub Sirius had visited twice as an excited young man—full of anticipation and in a costume of Muggle denims, black t-shirt, and the collar that James had bought for Padfoot—was still there. Or at least, what was clearly a drinking establishment was in the same place as it had been. Instead of smoky glass and a nondescript name that Sirius couldn't even remember, it had tall, clear windows, bright lights, and a sign done in neon ink and lit from behind, advertising sixty-nine different kinds of martinis. The sign over the door flashed, _Mr. Pickwick's Public House, All Welcome Here_.

Times had changed.

He squared his shoulders, tossed back his hair, pulled open the door and was immediately assailed by the thumping of bass and the buzz of people talking over the music. Men and a few women of all ages moved around the deceptively large space, in groups or alone, drinking or not, all circling in and out of the central dance floor. Half a dozen small bars were placed around the circumference of the circular room, each offering a selection of martinis.

Sirius worked his way up to one of the stations. Backlit glass and mirrors reached to the ceiling, giving the young man in the sheer white shirt behind the bar the appearance of being underwater. He had a ring through his eyebrow, spiky blond hair, and black almond-shaped eyes. Sirius felt very, very old.

"The house martini’s the best," said a voice to Sirius' left. "None of your sickly sweet fruit or poncy syrups."

"Thanks," Sirius said, turning to look at the man next to him. He was younger. By a good bit. Maybe mid-twenties, neat, light brown hair, simple, elegant clothes. Attractive in an understated way. 

"Simple. Vermouth, gin, dash of bitters and a twist of lemon. I think that's your drink," the man continued.

He had a lovely smile. 

"Can I buy you one?" Sirius asked. He hoped he remembered Muggle money. He'd spent two minutes studying it before he'd put it in his pockets at home. 

"John," the man said, still smiling. "John Smith, and no, I'm not joking." He offered his hand, and Sirius took it, flashing him a broad smile. "And a drink would be very nice."

*

John Smith was right about the house martinis. They were fantastic and rather potent and everything from his third, or perhaps it was fourth, drink until now was a jumbled rush. John's hand running down his arm, fingers tangling together. Sirius curling his fingers around John's hip, brushing over his hipbone with his thumb. A vermouth-dry, lemon tinted kiss, lips slippery and lax, tongues bold with the alcohol. A gasped, _I’ve got a flat_. But he also had a car and Sirius was still in his right mind enough to know the man couldn't drive. So they were on the street, stupid, dangerous, two blocks from the pub, leaning against a blue Renault that fit John Smith perfectly. 

They should move, go somewhere private, but the tunnel vision of the truly pissed, and John's hand rubbing over the front of his jeans while they kissed, made Sirius fumble for the door, forgetting not to use magic, and opening John's car with a silent charm. 

"It’s locked," John gasped against Sirius' mouth, fumbling in his pocket. His eyes went wide when Sirius pushed him back onto the back seat of his car and he looked at the keys in his hand, frowning. 

Sirius scrambled into the car after him and locked the doors. 

"Oh, god I'm pissed," John groaned, scrubbing his face with his hand.

"Not too pissed, I hope," Sirius said, foggy with alcohol and desire. "Not so pissed you don't know what you're doing?"

"I know what I'm fucking doing," John said, grabbing Sirius by the back of the neck and pulling him in for another kiss. 

Sirius' cock was hard as stone, pushing against his jeans. He needed more, something to quiet the furious pounding of his pulse. He pulled John into the middle of the back seat and swung his body heavily into John's lap, straddling him. 

"Mm," John sighed, titling his head up so he could curl his tongue around Sirius'. And Sirius felt a strong grip circle his hips, urging him to move, to roll his hips, press down on John's hard cock. 

"Yes," Sirius hissed, rolling his hips again, grinding John's trouser-clad erection against his balls and the base of his cock. "Not enough, not enough."

"Yeah. No," John panted, working his hands into Sirius' shirt, seeking out sensitive nipples to rub and pinch.

"More," Sirius moaned at the light twinges of not-quite-pain. His fingers tangled in the light-brown hair, light of the waning moon streaking it with silver. 

He worked his hand between them and arched up to unfasten John's trousers, pulling out a lovely, thick cock that felt burning hot in his hand. John swore and thrust into Sirius' fist. He dropped one of his hands from Sirius' chest and struggled with the tight denims for a moment. 

"Fuck," Sirius gasped and stopped stroking John so he could yank open his own trousers. 

He ground down into John's lap again and the tips of their cocks rubbed together, sending bursts of light behind Sirius' eyes. They each wrapped a hand around their cocks at the same time, stroking and moving faster. And suddenly, Sirius' cock was hot and wet and slippery. John's was pulsing against him, and the moonlight streamed in the car, streaking the light brown hair tangled around Sirius' fingers with silver. 

 

**Ten: Transparent, Receptive**

_Dear Quibbler,_

_I have yet to actually see one, but thanks to your guide of rarely seen creatures in your last issue, I realise that I am constantly plagued with wrackspurts. My brain is all in a dither and nothing I have tried has worked._

_Please help,_

_Mrs. Thelma Thallingham_

"I think your brain'll be in a dither no matter what I write back," Sirius muttered. 

"What's that, Mr. Black?" Luna asked in her wispy voice. 

"Someone I don't think a simple letter's going to sort," Sirius said, scratching his head. "And please, Luna, call me Sirius."

Luna looked over his shoulder. "Oh, that must be unpleasant," she sighed. "I'll take that one, Mr. Black. I've a charm I can give her. Clears them out every time. Although, they do come back when you least expect it." 

"All right," Sirius said slowly, handing the letter to Luna. He saw what Remus meant. If he'd had any less tea this morning, he didn't think he'd make it through this day.

After responding to nearly a dozen sightings of creatures Sirius had never heard of—and he'd been one of three people in his year to get a Care Of Magical Creatures NEWT—a man from Surrey who was certain a beetle was recording his every move, and a few people with questions about last month's article on protective charms, Sirius was tempted to put his own eye out with his quill. 

"Daddy," Luna said. Xenophilius looked up from the printing press. He'd been working all morning on modifications, wearing a tall hat outfitted with funnels protruding in every direction and whirring little fans pointed inward. He said it concentrated his magic and gave him mechanical abilities he didn't otherwise possess. "I'm not certain Mr. Black is suited to do the regular letters. It seems to be causing him some distress. What about the one we talked about yesterday?"

Xenophilius waved his hand frantically and nodded. 

"He's concentrating," Luna said. "Here's a problem I think your mind might be more ready to solve, Mr. Black."

" _Sirius_ ," he said. "What is it, Luna?" She thrust a letter, simple parchment done in black ink into his hand. 

_Dear Quibbler,_

_My family doesn't know I am writing, so please don't publish this. But the article in your last issue on family heirlooms fascinated me. You see, my daughter is rather sickly. She's always been quite fragile, while her twin sister is as strong as a hippogriff. We have a long family history of twins on my father's side. The problem is that one of them often dies very young. The family legend goes that my great-great-great-great grandfather, unable to conceive a child with his wife, had a healer make a magical necklace in the shape of a heart, which would help his wife become pregnant. She became pregnant with twins. Apparently, when the babies were born, the heart locket split in two. The overjoyed parents placed half around each of the girls. They grew fat and healthy until one day when they were paddling in the river. One of the children slipped and fell. She had drowned and the necklace disappeared. The father was so distraught that he cursed the other half of the heart, proclaiming that no twins would be born to the family again. There haven't been for generations, but the last records of any I could find showed that a baby boy in a set of twins died the day after he was born._

_I heard the story as a child. I never gave it a moment's real thought until I was pregnant and my midwife told me it was twins. We've been to St. Mungo's dozens of times and they cannot find a thing wrong. I went to the family vault at Gringott's and the second heart is still there. My father gave me permission to take it, and my girls take turns wearing it. While one gets bigger and stronger, the other just doesn't grow. She is failing, Mr. Lovegood. I know you have a daughter. I know you'd do anything to help her. Please help me. When I tell the healers that I think she is suffering from a centuries old curse, they look at me like I'm mad, pat me on the arm, and try another potion._

_I've done the research. I know in my heart that the only way to save my daughter is to find that other half-heart. I have a little money to pay someone, but I don't know anyone who would know how to go about finding it. I need an Auror, or someone like it. You know powerful people. Please help me._

_Sincerely,_

_Janette Richie_

Sirius read the letter three times. He'd spent his life in a house filled with powerful magical objects. During the first war, when he wasn't in battle, Dumbledore had had Sirius racing against Death Eaters to track down objects that could be used as weapons or in intelligence. He'd even told James that he thought he had a flair for it, that after the war, he'd open a shop, the anti-Borgin and Burkes. 

"I'll do it," he said. "I'll find it."

*

Janette Richie's facial expression had cycled through terror, shock, confusion, and joy when she opened her door to find the notorious Sirius Black standing on her doorstep, talking quickly and explaining that he thought he could help her. That he'd look for the necklace, that he'd start now, that he'd do it for free. That all he asked if he found it was to let him know how the girls were doing, and perhaps a letter to recommend him if he wanted to start a business. 

Her ancestors, she had explained, had lived in a small wizarding village on the coast of the Black Sea. The legend said that some of the previous twins' parents, generations ago, had gone looking for it, but none had found it. It had faded into legend, and that's where it had stayed until now.

* 

Sirius walked through the third village in as many days. Two had been in Romania and now this, in Ukraine, was the last wizarding village on his list. There were three in this region where he was certain, from everything he had learned in a frantic twenty-four hours of research, must be where this woman's ancestors had lived. He had gone over his conclusions with Remus, who had agreed with a bemused smile and wished him a good journey.

The heart necklace was warm against his skin. He'd known the moment he touched it that Janette was right. The thing pulsed and hummed with magic. She had done her research, just as she'd said. She provided him with family names and locations as far back as he could have possibly hoped. His pulse raced as he walked through the high street of this village. About half the headstones in the church yard were engraved with either, "Rudnitsky" or "Vitko," the origins of her family names.

He started to turn into the pub, his stomach protesting the lack of food, when he froze. On the last corner of the street was a small shop with a sign that read, "Vitko's," followed by a word he didn't recognize, but from the window display, guessed was "bookshop."

He pushed open the door and a harsh bell jangled against the wooden frame. It was a neat, well-stocked little shop. An old woman stepped from behind the counter. She looked Sirius up and down as if he were a rare book and she were considering whether he was worth the time to examine. 

"Yes?" she asked, her voice creaky and harsh from age and cigarettes. 

"English?" 

She rolled her eyes and nodded and muttered something. 

"I have something to ask you." He spun the tale as carefully as he could. His excitement mounted when she didn't tell him he was mad, but instead sat on her stool and listened, intelligent eyes fixed on his, chin leaning on one wizened hand, and drawing occasionally on the cigarette that seemed to be permanently affixed to the corner of her mouth. 

A small smile had been hovering around her lips for several minutes. It made her look years younger. He prized his ability to read people, but he wasn't sure if the smile was friendly interest or sinister. He flinched as she raised her hand with a speed he hadn't expected after her being still for so long. She reached under her shawl and pulled out a slender, golden chain, dangling on the end of which was a delicately carved, glowing heart. The one he'd held clutched in his hand for four days, its twin, began to quiver. 

*

The twin hearts were warm in his pocket. Sirius smiled to himself thinking of the dramatic, heart rending performance he had given of the twin's tale. She had been putty in his hands and really pleased to think her sacrifice would help her kin. The bag of galleons may have had something to do with it, but that was neither here nor there, really. 

His first success at this and he was ready to celebrate. Fortunately enough, Charlie Weasley and his dragons were just a hop, skip, and a jump from Mrs. Vitko's bookshop.

*

"Charlie Weasley?" he asked the first person he saw near the entrance to the reserve, an awkward looking youth who was removing weeds from a vegetable garden with resentful flicks of his wand. 

"You his friend?" the boy asked.

"Yes."

"That's him there," the boy mumbled, pointing to a small cabin halfway up the hill. 

Sirius was certain the boy should have asked another question or two, or checked with someone, before inviting a stranger to go to Charlie's quarters, but he wasn't going to argue. 

It was a squat, rough, little building and he had to duck to step under the eaves and to the front door. It smelled of pine and peat, rich like the earth and it suited Charlie perfectly. He lifted his hand and knocked and the door swung open with the pressure from his fist. He stepped into a cool, dark room. It was unmistakably Charlie's. Photos of Weasleys were propped on the shelves and the mantle. Quidditch gear lay in the corner. On the kitchen window sill was the small golden box containing a fragment of Fred's wand and a Phoenix feather, a replica of which the Order had given each member of the Weasley family. There were no dishes in the sink, everything was in its place and there was little way to tell if Charlie had even been home in the past twenty-four hours. 

Sirius sighed and looked around the room, at a loss, until he saw the tin of Floo powder and strode to the hearth. 

"Remus," he called, tossing a handful of powder into the fire. "Remus, are you in?"

He saw the interior of Remus' house, blurry through the heat, and after a moment, heard shuffling and then Remus moved into view. He was smiling and holding a giggling Teddy in his arms. He still looked tired, but the happiness made him glow.

"Sirius," Remus exclaimed, his smile broadening.

"I did it, Moony," Sirius said. "I found it."

"I never doubted you would," Remus said. "That's brilliant." Teddy began to whimper. "I'll expect the full report when you get back." Teddy screwed up his face and opened his mouth, gearing up for a full-on wail. Remus nodded at Teddy. "This one's ready for the rest of his porridge. I'm sorry, I’ve to go. Will you be back soon? Tell me the full story?" 

"Yeah, I should be back in a couple of days. I'll Floo you. Come round to tea or something."

"Grand," Remus said and Teddy began to cry in earnest. Remus shrugged apologetically. "See you when you get back?" he asked and stepped out of view. 

"Well, hello there," a familiar voice said behind Sirius. He turned to see Charlie, cocking his head and peeling the long protective gloves off his heavily muscled forearms. "Bill said you might be in the area." 

"Sorry to barge in," Sirius said, standing and brushing soot off his knees. "The door was open."

"Always leave it open," Charlie said. "You're looking pleased with yourself. Your errand must have gone well."

Charlie turned to the kitchen sink and flipped on the taps. Sirius had forgotten how his broad back slanted down to his hips in a perfect "V." 

"Very well," Sirius said. "Thought I'd find a friend to celebrate with. Is there somewhere around here I could buy you a drink?"

Charlie reached up to the cupboard above the sink and pulled out a bottle of Ogden's Old. When he turned, he gave Sirius an appraising look. 

"Let me buy _you_ a drink," Charlie said. He smirked and crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge and the dragon on his forearm ripple. "It's been a while, Sirius. Come all the way across the continent for a shag?"

"You saying you're not interested?"

"Not in the slightest. I'm very interested," Charlie said, pouring whisky into two glasses and holding one out to Sirius. "I'm saying it's been a while and there were blokes in Britain last I checked. I'm sure you'd find some sweet young things who'd jump at the chance."

"I like my young things not-so-sweet," Sirius said. He reached out and took the tumbler of whisky from Charlie. 

*

Sirius awoke, feeling pleasantly rested, sated, and accomplished. 

Charlie was at the little cooker in his room, stirring something in a bowl, the muscles in his back flexing and creating ripples in the scaled skin of the Hungarian Horntail that decorated his ruddy skin. Pyjama bottoms hung low on his hips, just clinging to the curve of his arse. 

"Morning, sunshine," Sirius said, propping his head up on one elbow. 

Charlie turned slowly, balancing the bowl and Sirius took his time looking over the strong arms, hard stomach and sculpted chest. 

"You know," Charlie said. "You're _still_ looking inordinately pleased with yourself."

"Yesterday was a good day," Sirius said, swinging his legs off the bed and walking, stark naked, across the room to Charlie. "And today's off to a nice start as well."

"Should I take it you'd like to put off breakfast?" Charlie asked, sliding his hand down Sirius' side. 

Sirius trailed his fingers down Charlie's back and slipped his hand under the waistband to stroke his round, firm arse. "I think eggs can wait," Sirius whispered, tracing Charlie's ear with his tongue. 

The _whoosh_ of an owl's wings made them both jump and Charlie muttered, "Fuck," as he pulled out of Sirius' arms and went to the window. He slid the small scroll from the leather thong around the bird's foot and grabbed a crust of the bread he'd sliced for toast. 

"It's for you," Charlie said, shrugging in mild surprise and offering the parchment to Sirius.

_Sirius,_

_There's been another note. Kingsley says he wants to meet me this afternoon. Calm down. You don't have to come back. I just knew you'd go off your nut if I didn't tell you._

_Harry_

 

**Eleven: Pervious and Impervious**

"Mr. Black! The Minister is in a meeting," the young woman shouted desperately as he pushed past her to Kingsley's office. 

"Sirius," Kingsley said, standing slowly. "It's fine, Nora. Mr. Black was expected. I'm sorry I neglected to tell you."

Harry shook his head at Sirius, ruffling his hair with both hands. "I _told_ you you didn't need to come back."

Remus nodded at him from the chair next to Harry. Sirius swallowed the outburst that was working its way up his throat. They'd all taken this too lightly.

"I asked Remus to come," Kingsley said. He sat back down behind his imposing desk. "I know he has been working with Harry and wanted to know his thoughts, since you were out of the country."

Harry rolled his eyes and Sirius could read his infuriating little mind. He hadn't wanted either him or Remus to be bothered. 

"Harry," Sirius said, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You can't possibly have thought I wouldn't come. What did this one say?"

Kingsley cleared his throat. "That's what concerns me, Sirius," he said, deep slow voice. "We both received notes that said the same thing."

"Is someone going to tell me?" Sirius asked impatiently.

"Apparently they both said, _Liars never prosper_ ," Remus said. "Same green ink. Same handwriting."

Harry rubbed the back of his hand and fidgeted in his seat. He flinched and stuffed his hand under his thigh and tried to look confused. Sirius didn't buy it for a second and then an idea hit him like a lightening bolt. 

"Harry, did you ever tell Kingsley about the scars on your hand?" Sirius asked.

"He just told both of us," Remus said, frowning. "That person, and I use the word loosely, is beneath contempt."

"Yes, but it can't be her," Harry said. "She's in Azkaban, isn't she? So we're back to someone looking for attention as the most likely theory."

Kingsley drummed his fingers on his desk and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I'm still inclined to agree with you, Harry. And while I don't see how they could be from Dolores Umbridge, after all, all mail in and out of Azkaban is screened. I will have the mail records for the past several weeks examined." He frowned. "I wonder, Sirius, if you might have room for Harry to stay for a while, just until we determine what this is about."

"It's up to Harry," Sirius said, watching as Harry's good sense and his stubbornness waged a battle behind his eyes. 

Remus opened his mouth and closed it. "I think it would be best," he said after a very full silence. "But then you knew I would say that." 

"Yes," Harry said, finally. "Yeah, I'll stay with Sirius for a bit."

Sirius nodded and flashed Harry a grin. He felt a weight lift from his chest.

"Good," Kingsley said. "Good. And I'll give you the names of two Aurors who'll be your contacts. Let's not advertise where you're staying, Harry. Strictly need to know. Present company and Order members only, I'd say."

Harry pulled a face and opened his mouth to argue.

"It's not the same as living under _Fidelius_ ," Sirius said. "You won't be trapped, and anyone close to you can know. It’s just until we figure out what this is about."

That settled, they shook hands and he, Remus, and Harry stood to go. They were just at the door when Kingsley said, "Remus, I've been meaning to ask you. We haven't seen you in the Wolfsbane program. I'd love your feedback if you have any suggestions to improve it."

"I'll give it some thought and get back to you," Remus said, his voice suddenly cool.

The sing song voice in the elevator announced that they were approaching the Atrium. The doors slid open and they stepped into the lobby.

"Remus," Sirius whispered. "Where have you been getting Wolfsbane?"

"Not here, Sirius," Remus said, under his breath.

Sirius turned to glare at Remus and found he was met by an equally fierce look.

Harry looked from one to the other and said cautiously, "Er, I'll just pop round to the Burrow and see if Ron or George are about to help me pack up some things."

"Ask Arthur or Molly to go with you, too," Sirius said, never taking his eyes of Remus. He vaguely registered his surprise that Harry didn't argue.

*

Sirius Apparated to his front room and rounded on Remus when he heard the _crack_ behind him. 

"You're not taking it, are you?" he snapped. "That's why you don't want me there."

"I can't imagine why I thought you couldn't handle the information," Remus said, rolling his eyes. 

"Just explain to me why, when it is finally available, you are not using it," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Tell me why you prefer to stay locked in a cold basement over sleeping through it or being here with me. Tell me, because I'll wager you can't."

Remus' eyes flashed. "I _can_ tell you, Sirius. I didn't _want_ to tell you." 

"It's getting more difficult as you get older. Don't tell me it's not. Why are you so bloody stubborn?"

Remus raised his hand and began ticking off on his fingers as he talked. "First, you have to go to the Ministry to get it, sign in for the program, put up with the idiots at the desk. Then there's the charming, and rest assured, detailed, interview. It takes an entire day to get it. And that's just the voucher for it. You still have to go to an apothecary to buy it. And it is not free. Children are expensive, and in case you hadn't noticed, employers are still not rushing to hire my kind." 

"I hate it when you call yourself that," Sirius shouted. 

"Well, you have that luxury," Remus snapped back. 

"Then you have to tell Kingsley. How dare they treat you that way? The Ministry should be giving it to you for free and without jumping any bloody hoops. Half them would be dead and the rest wouldn't have jobs if it weren't for you. Fucking useless quill pushers. Don't they know who you are?"

"Sirius, take a breath," Remus said, his face softening. "Everyone else has to go through that and Kingsley can't be there to supervise every interview. Minds don't change that quickly. But yes, I'll tell him. I've been meaning to. It's just that it is not exactly a pleasant conversation and I don't want special favours."

"You never did know what you're worth."

"And you always were deluded when it came to your friends," Remus said, and Sirius felt his blood pressure return to normal with Remus' affectionate smile. 

"I'll make it for you," Sirius said. "I won't have it ready for next month, but I'll get started tomorrow."

Remus sighed and sank onto the couch, but when he looked up at Sirius, his expression was set. "I don't need you, Sirius." Sirius felt as if he'd been slapped, but he bit his tongue and tried to listen. "I see what you're doing, and I don't want you to try and play catch up for the years you were in prison. You don't owe me a thing but your friendship. I survived many years without you. It's painful and unpleasant, but it is my life and you don't need to rescue me from it. If you choose to make the potion, I'll be grateful, but I don't need it. I want you in my life, I want your friendship, but I don't need you."

"Okay, Moony," Sirius said. "You're still the most stubborn git I've ever met in my life, but I understand what you're saying."

"I cannot believe that _you_ are calling me stubborn," Remus said, shaking his head.

Sirius smiled, his mind running through the ingredients in his potions stores and what he would have to buy in the next few days.

 

**Twelve: We are each product and influence**

Sirius stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on his elbows against the steps. The gnomes were up to something, darting in among the hedges and digging furiously. The back garden at the Burrow was a riot of colour—late blooming Flutterby bushes and geraniums next to an oak with leaves just beginning to turn golden. The jumble of tools, plant pots, and boots—whose owners had long since outgrown them—was a sharp contrast to Sirius' own manicured garden.

The richness of the family history in this spot was almost overwhelming. He could imagine he heard the echoes of the children playing, growing, telling secrets as they discovered the hundreds of hiding spots that must be here. 

He fingered the diary in his pocket and pulled it from his robe. Another letter from the _Quibbler_ and he had another job. This time it was in England, not so far from Remus' place: a family whose house had burnt down while they were away on holiday. The only thing they had managed to salvage was a picture frame—one that held memories of family members from the previous three generations. Birthdays, funerals, weddings, first days of school all were contained in this one frame. It hadn't burned, but the charm was damaged and the image was stuck on a very small boy in old fashioned school robes and a tall hat that came down over his ears. 

Sirius hadn't quite cracked it, but he had some ideas and he found himself getting anxious to see the look on the woman's face when he gave her back her family memories. The charm was more complex than that used in portraits. Some of the layers had to be similar to what they'd done with the map. 

"Hello, there. I didn't hear you arrive." Remus walked lightly onto the back steps. 

"You were deep in study," Sirius said, a smile spreading over his face. "How are the lessons coming along?"

"Fine," Remus said noncommittally, but his dark eyes twinkled. "Actually, really well, I think. We're onto some interesting Transfiguration theory. Hermione gets it straight away, of course, and Ron and Harry are keeping up as well. I think they'll do well come exam time." 

"Course they will, Moony," Sirius said, shrugging. "They have you." 

Remus made a dismissive noise that didn't cover the way his face shone. He dropped onto the step next to Sirius, his leg pressing against Sirius' as he settled. The sweet, homey smell of the Burrow wafted from his robes into the warm afternoon. 

"How's the life of intrigue and debauchery?" Remus asked, the corners of his mouth twitching mischievously.

"Light on the intrigue at the moment," Sirius said, patting the diary in his pocket. "This one's fairly boring Charms research." 

"Heavy on the debauchery?" Remus chuckled. 

"I suppose I have been burning it at both ends, so to speak," Sirius said. Remus snorted out a laugh. "Here, shut it, you. I've got things to do before I'm too old." 

"You'll never be too old," Remus said. "Now, one thing I've wondered, when you're seducing these Muggles, how do you explain the long, thin piece of wood in your trousers?"

"It's what they're after, Moony," Sirius said, bumping his shoulder against Remus'. "And I'll have you know, it's not that _thin_."

"Idiot." Remus laughed, shaking his head so the longer bits of his fringe brushed his cheeks. 

"Why don't you come along with me tonight?" 

"Not on your life," Remus said, his eyebrows crinkling in amusement. "I have no need to recapture my messy adolescence."

"Right, I'll do that bit. _You_ on the other hand, should be indulging in some of the capers due a man of your age who's left his wife." 

"I'll have my mid-life crisis in the privacy of my own bedroom, thanks."

"Meaning wh—" Sirius began. 

"Oi, Remus. Sirius," Harry called from inside. "Dinner's on the table." 

Remus stood quickly but Sirius took his time, still wondering what exactly that last comment had meant and how, precisely, Remus was carrying out a mid-life crisis in his bedroom. He shook his head to clear the words and bumped against a smirking Harry as he went inside and was greeted by rich, savoury smells.

"The two of you looked very cosy," Harry muttered as he turned to follow Sirius. 

 

**Thirteen: Side by Side**

Thick, pungent vapours swirled around Sirius' face. He held his breath and squinted, carefully stirring clockwise, three turns a minute for five minutes. He sprinkled in one goblet of finely chopped valerian leaves and watched as silver patterns emanated from the leaves. 

"The least you could do is _try_ and find a way to make it smell less distasteful," Remus said, leaning over Sirius' shoulder and peering in to the cauldron. He wrinkled up his nose in a way that made him look twenty years younger. 

"Builds character," Sirius said, smiling into the foul-smelling steam.

"I think I've more than enough character as it is," Remus said with a grimace.

"Now, you'll be a good lad and take your potion when it's ready, or you'll not get a sweet," Sirius said, smirking at Remus.

"Here, threats of withholding sweets only ever worked on Peter," Remus said, and Sirius felt the warmth drain out of him.

They never talked about Peter, or rather, about good memories of Peter. Somehow they had managed to recreate their stockpile of memories with stories that only involved the three of them. Peter was only mentioned in anger, if at all.

The silver strands from the brewing valerian leaves had spread across the surface. It needed stirring: Four times counter-clockwise and seven clockwise until they were incorporated into the rest of the potion. If it wasn't perfect, it wouldn't help Remus and all of the convincing it had taken to let him make it would be for nothing. 

"Sirius." 

He felt a hand warm on his shoulder. 

"Sirius, we can't pretend he wasn't there," Remus said gently. 

"Why ever not?" Sirius snapped. He turned quickly to face Remus and the hand slid off his shoulder. 

Remus shrugged. "It's like erasing part of ourselves. I spent a long time doing that, Sirius. I don't want to do it anymore."

"Fuck," Sirius said, spinning back to face the cauldron. "I missed once around." He dipped his wand into the potion and carefully swirled the viscous liquid clockwise around the cauldron until it regained the right iridescent blue shade. 

"Do you remember when Peter tried to match you up with his sister?" Remus asked, laughing softly. 

"Lovely girl," Sirius said, feeling a smile tug at his lips in spite of himself. "Too bad she was about as interested in someone with a cock as I was in someone with tits."

"She told him that you were a perfect gentleman and hadn't tried to put a hand on her." Remus was beaming, his eyes twinkling, happily reminiscing. 

"That was the absolute truth, although I'm not certain he believed her," Sirius said. He chuckled and pushed the cauldron carefully to the back of the kitchen counter. It would need to sit now through three settings of the moon and then it would be ready. 

"And when you asked after his brother," Remus said, his shoulders shaking with laugher. "Remember? He thought you wanted a Quidditch match and—"

"James said it was indeed Paul's bat and bludgers I was after, but not that way. I thought Peter was going to have a fit." Sirius laughed out loud as he remembered Peter's befuddled look, James' smug one, and Remus rolling with laughter on his bed, with the same expression he had on his face just now.

"Hello," Harry's voice came from the front room. "Remus here?"

"H-hello," Sirius managed as he and Remus took deep breaths, their laughter slowing and calming. "He is. How'd you know?"

Harry stepped through the arched doorway to the kitchen, his face bright and smiling. "You only laugh like that when you're talking to him. What's the joke?"

Remus tilted his head and gave Sirius a thoughtful look. "Something that is probably only amusing to Sirius and me," Remus said. He was smiling, still looking at Sirius, with a little crease between his eyebrows. "Anyway, I should be off. Lessons to prepare. A child to collect."

"Can't stay for tea, Moony?" Sirius asked. 

Harry looked in the cauldron and pulled a face."I hope that's not what we're having." 

Remus laughed again, a deep and contented sound. "Hardly. I have no idea what that would do to you. Best not find out. And no, thanks for the offer, but I want to have Teddy with me as I'll miss him at the weekend."

"Fair enough," Sirius said. "See you then, if not before."

"Cheers," Remus called, and he Disapparated. 

Sirius pulled the frying pan from below the cooker. "Bangers and mash for tea?" he asked, summoning potatoes and turnips from the larder. Harry was standing in the middle of the bright kitchen, arms crossed and smirking. "What?" Sirius said.

"You and Remus are spending a lot of time together," Harry said, still smirking.

Sirius shrugged. "I suppose. That's not so unusual." 

"Seems like much more than even when you lived together." 

"Well, he's split up with his wife and he's my oldest friend," Sirius said. The sausages hit the pan with a sizzle. "I'm sure you have a point."

"Not as such," Harry said, setting a knife in motion with a spell. Chunks of potato and turnip fell from the cutting board into a simmering cauldron. "You're both nearly forty, you know." 

"No point, eh?"

"Think about it," Harry said. "You know everything about each other. You'd rather spend time with him than just about anyone else. I see him nearly every day now and I worry about him. He needs someone."

"Don't overcook the spuds," Sirius said, turning the sausages. 

"You're perfect for each other," Harry insisted. 

"Remus doesn't need anyone. Just ask him," Sirius said, with a vehemence that seemed to come from nowhere. He coughed, intently piercing the browning skins of the sausages so that the fat spilled into the pan. 

"Dropping it," Harry muttered.

 

**Fourteen: Four-Footed, In The Woods**

Padfoot perked his sharp ears at the call of a mourning dove, and then a soft whine from the grey wolf, as he settled down to wait. The sky, visible through the tiny window at the top of Remus' basement, was awash with the beginnings of the pale dawn.

Padfoot sniffed the wolf, licking his muzzle. _I'm here_. He settled against the wolf’s side, a barrier from the early morning chill. He smelled it before he felt anything, deep wolfy-musk shifting to something lighter, and then the heavy body started to shake. Padfoot leaned back, feeling Moony curl in on himself with something between a scream and a howl. He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself against the shifting body, staying right there, stopping Moony from trembling apart, or so he told himself as the tremors moved to his body and he began to shake as well. He heard the soft, ragged sound of a human sigh, and caught the scent of Remus' exhaustion. 

Sirius focused and the spell quivered through his body as he transformed. He turned to Remus, who was lying with his knees drawn to his chest on the cold stone floor. He seemed so slight and fragile compared to the bulk of minutes ago. Sirius gathered him into his arms and helped Remus to stumble up the stairs, following a path that Remus had travelled for years, carried by his mother or father and then alone for more years than Sirius wanted to count. 

The house was still cool, the sky turning from inky black to deep, navy blue. The air smelt fresh, of summer, not rank of mildew, captivity, and agitation. 

"Almost there, Moony," Sirius said gently when Remus groaned and began to protest that the floor here would be a fine place to stop. "You know you do better if you get to bed straight away."

They'd prepared Remus' room the night before. A pain potion and a healing potion, _Pepper Up_ Potion, and warm pyjamas were laid out and waiting. Sirius helped Remus into the pyjamas and helped him settle back on his pillow. 

"Now drink this and no complaints," he said, measuring out doses of the potions.

Remus pulled a face at the healing potion, muttering that it tasted like dirty socks spread with marmite. 

"Take it," Sirius said.

"You're a pain in the arse," Remus grumbled. "If you were any sort of a friend, you'd leave me to die."

"Shut it and take your medicine," Sirius said, as Remus choked back the horrible stuff. He brushed the tangled hair off of Remus' face, and Remus let his eyes fall shut. Sirius touched his shoulder. "You're trembling."

"Cold," Remus said. "Too cold until I fall asleep." 

Sirius didn't think. If he had, he might not have done it. He hadn't done this since he was a boy. He pulled off his smudged robe and slid into bed next to Remus, pulling him back against his chest. Remus tensed and then sighed and relaxed, his breathing slowing to a deep and even rhythm almost immediately. So exhausted, poor Moony. 

The first rays of the sun made patterns on the floor through the curtains and Sirius closed his eyes as he heard a robin greet the day. 

*

A dog barked somewhere down the lane. The sound of a hammer echoed around the room. The bright light shone red through Sirius' eyelids. His arm was slung around Remus' middle, still holding him, feeling his chest rise and fall with his breath. Sirius tried to bury himself back down into the bed. He wasn't ready to wake and leave this behind. Any movement would wake Remus. 

Remus shifted and moaned softly and Sirius soothed his hand over his chest, _sshhh_. Remus seemed to burrow into him, pressing his back to Sirius' chest, his thighs to Sirius' thighs. He fidgeted and groaned.

"Hush, Moony," Sirius whispered, rubbing sleepy circles on his soft belly, gentle pressure on sore muscles. "Don't wake up yet."

Remus' groan turned to a sigh and he arched into Sirius' touch. The way he'd shifted made his arse press into Sirius' body, right against his abdomen, just above his cock. Remus' soft hair tickled his nose and their legs slid together, taking Sirius' breath away. He floated in the feeling, half-asleep with half-light filtering in the shaded windows, Remus boneless and needy in his arms. 

"Mmm," Remus sighed again, moving against Sirius. Sirius' hand still rubbed his stomach, one finger dipping just below the waist band of his pyjamas, and Remus let out a soft gasp and rolled his hips back. And there was no way Remus wouldn't feel Sirius' cock hard against him. Sirius let his hand hover low on Remus' belly, and Remus made an encouraging sound and pushed into Sirius' hand.

Remus' cock was already full, and they gasped together at Sirius' first touch. Remus moved, gentle little rolls of his hips to Sirius' hand and then against body and back to his hand again. Sirius was hard and straining in his pants and his cock nudged Remus' arse with each thrust. He moved his hands and his hips in rhythm, stroking Remus, and _fuck_ , he felt so good in his hand, their movements gentle, slow, intimate, so close to a dream. Remus' breath quickened as he tipped his head back, leaning on Sirius' shoulder, bringing their cheeks in contact, and then Remus came in his hand. The sound of that, the way his eyes crinkled shut and his mouth opened, his warm arse rubbing against Sirius' cock, and Sirius felt his own orgasm roll through him. He wrapped his arm tighter around Remus, pulling him close.

"Hush, Moony," he said, his eyelids heavy. "Don't wake up yet."

*

Remus was still dead asleep. It was nearly evening again and Sirius had showered, dressed, made afternoon tea that no one ate, and occupied himself with pacing around Remus' front room.

A shuffle of feet from the hallway, and Sirius jerked his head. 

"Sirius?" Remus said, his voice hoarse and painful. He looked around the room awkwardly. "You didn't have to stay all day."

"I said I would."

Remus nodded and walked to the sink, turning the tap to fill a glass with water. "You did."

"I'm sorry," he blurted out. 

"I was there, too," Remus said. 

"It was a mistake, and I didn't intend—"

Remus winced as he took a step. "Stop, Sirius. Let's just put it down to a mistake, then, if that's what it was."

"Right."

Sirius filled a plate with scones spread with jam and drizzled with cream and set it on the table in front of Remus.

 

**Fifteen: Product and Influence**

"So you're spending the night with Remus now?" Harry asked. "Good."

"Don't start," Sirius said, wiping tea from the corners of his mouth. 

"The full moon," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I think it's good now he lives alone. I'm not suggesting anything else, although I do think—"

"What's on your schedule today?" Sirius asked. 

"Remus gave us some extra lessons for these few days. Hermione's organised us for this afternoon. Then I'll probably hang about the Burrow, practice Quidditch a bit. Ginny's back and, right," Harry said, slapping his forehead with his palm. "Right, I forgot. Charlie's in town for a bit. He said to send his regards." 

*

Charlie rose up off his knees, smirking and wiping his mouth. 

"Good to see you again, Sirius," he said. 

Charlie was beautiful. Sirius captured his lush mouth in a kiss, tasting himself on his tongue, carding his fingers through his shaggy, penny-bright hair. He smoothed his hands over the hard muscles of his back. The round cheeks of his arse were firm and full in his hands. Charlie's cock slid between Sirius' thighs, rubbing along Sirius' over-sensitive cock, nudging his balls. Charlie moaned, his young, clear voice holding none of the roughness of Remus', hoarse in the early morning after the full moon. Charlie's lovely blue eyes flared as he jerked against Sirius and came between his thighs. Sirius felt the flush of renewed desire, remembering Charlie's come, hot and slick between his thighs last time, and what they'd done, but Charlie stepped back and grabbed his t-shirt, mopping up his stomach.

"Mm," he said, flopping back on the couch and kicking his feet on the coffee table. 

Sirius pulled on his pants and shirt and sat next to Charlie. "What brings you to England?" 

"Remus asked me if I'd have time to help with some lessons for Ron and them, and Percy's asked me to be his best man, so I'd some things to do," Charlie said. He leaned back and grabbed the lager he'd abandoned minutes ago to take Sirius' cock in his mouth. 

"Oh, I didn't know you were in touch with Remus," Sirius said.

Charlie shrugged. "Sometimes." He dropped his feet back to the floor and turned to look at Sirius. "Right, so tell me, who are you mucking about on?"

"What?"

"Cheating on," Charlie said, raising one eyebrow. 

"What are you talking about?" Sirius asked, a sudden flare of irritation eclipsing the post-orgasm languor. 

"Come off it," Charlie said. "Don't get me wrong. I don't particularly care, and I'm more than pleased for a one-off with you. But you were somewhere else just now, and I don't mean to flatter myself, but I am not accustomed to men thinking about another bloke when they're with me." 

"You're barking," Sirius said. "I've no one to cheat on."

"Whatever you say," Charlie said, hoisting himself off the couch. "Harry'll be back soon and, while I'm sure he's clever enough to know what we're doing here, I don't quite fancy him walking in when I'm in this state." He pulled on his robe, pocketed his dirty t-shirt and drained the lager in one gulp. "Thanks for the beer and the tumble. See you around I hope."

He Disapparated and Sirius sat staring at the wall and wondering what on earth he'd been talking about. 

 

**Sixteen: What The Atmosphere Is**

Remus came over the next day, and the next, stopping by unannounced. Sometimes he'd have Teddy along and sometimes not. He brought small tokens, dropping them unceremoniously on the kitchen table or the settee in the library. They were simple—a book he thought Sirius might like, an old photograph, a contribution to tea. They never discussed what had happened the morning after the full moon any further, but Sirius couldn't get it out of his mind. He found himself staring at Remus’ hands and watching his lips. Sirius found himself thinking of the deep rumble of Remus' voice when he touched himself, or when he came in the warm mouth of a man who lied about his name and then eagerly followed him into the loo or the alley. 

The window seat in the library had a beautiful view of the woods. Soft evening light filtered through the trees, dappling the green grass with shifting patterns. Sirius ran his finger over the photo that Remus had given him yesterday. Inside the light wooden frame, Sirius and Harry grinned and jostled each other for space on this very seat. Remus had taken it just after Harry had moved in.

"Did Remus say anything after your lesson?" Sirius asked.

Harry looked up from his book and squinted. "Huh?"

"Remus. Did he say anything after your lesson?"

"About what?"

"I don't know, how he was, if he was stopping by this evening," Sirius said. "Oh, never mind."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "Why don't you go over to his place and ask him?"

"I think I will," Sirius said. Harry laughed, and Sirius added, "Just to make sure nothing's the matter."

Harry smirked and hummed, "Mm-hmmm."

"Oh, shut it," Sirius said as he strode to the hearth and grabbed a handful of Floo powder.

Moments later, he stepped out of Remus' front room fire and brushed the soot off his robe. He blinked and shook his head. Remus was standing in the middle of the room and it would have been comical if it didn't steal his breath from his lungs. A young—very young—man with black hair and a smart-arse expression had his manky finger hooked into the waist band of Remus' jeans, tugging him forward. Remus' shirt was unbuttoned to the waist and his hips were cocked towards the boy. They were frozen in place as if they'd been petrified—until Remus recovered himself.

"Sirius, what the—" Remus exclaimed. "Is something the matter?"

"No. Sorry. Shit," Sirius said, shaking his head to clear it. "Sorry. Bad time, obviously. I'll just be off. Use the door this time."

The young man frowned and bent over to look up the chimney. Fuck. Remus was wearing jeans. This lad was a Muggle. 

"Bit of a prankster, he is," Remus said evenly. "Sirius, this is Magnus. Magnus, this is an old friend, Sirius."

"Should I go?" the bloke, who looked younger when he opened his mouth, asked. He'd finally extracted his finger from Remus' trousers. 

"No," Sirius said. "I should. Let you get on with it." 

"Sirius," Remus said, warning in his tone.

Sirius walked out through the front door, letting it bang behind him. He stepped around the house, out of sight, and Apparated into his library, exclaiming, "Fuck. _Magnus_?" the second he felt his feet hit the floor. 

"Christ, what?" Harry blustered, jumping and dropping a book on the floor.

"That was a bloody brilliant idea," Sirius barked. He paced to the window and glared at the woods. 

"What did I do?" Harry snapped. 

"'Go over to Remus'? He was with some bloody trollop barely older than you."

"Oh," Harry said. "Blimey. Awkward." 

"And who the fuck is named _Magnus_?" Sirius asked, spinning to glare at Harry.

"Do you think it has to do with the siz—never mind." Harry cleared his throat.

"Whatever his name was, I didn't like him," Sirius said. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it. "Remus should know better than to bring strange Muggles home—and before you say anything about him needing someone, I'll remind you that this bloke's name is _Magnus_ and he looked like a prick."

"Yeah, well, that wasn't precisely what I meant when I said he needed someone," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to the Burrow tomorrow." He patted Sirius on the shoulder. "Why don't you ask him here? You're going to have to talk about it. I’ve learned that you may as well get it over with."

"Not fucking likely," Sirius said. He knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn't shake it. Harry giving him advice, Remus shagging strangers. The whole bloody world had gone mad. 

"All I'll say more is that I’d take the piss out of Ron if I walked in on him with someone. Maybe say something if there was reason to think he was in a bad situation," Harry said. "I wouldn't act as if he'd turned on me."

 

**Seventeen: Rolling Over Each Other**

Sirius didn't invite Remus that next night, but he darkened Sirius' door nonetheless, stumbling and already half-pissed, with a tale of an angry Tonks and civilised negotiations gone uncivilised. Sirius waved him in, pushed him toward the settee and sat to listen. 

She had apparently arrived not twenty minutes after Sirius had left. Remus had just convinced _Magnus_ that Sirius had worked as a chimney sweep when he was young and still had a laugh popping in on his friends that way. Sirius pictured Remus, his calming, deep voice, laughing and cajoling and stepping close to that little prat, Remus' loose shirt fluttering around his waist as he bent to make the lad forget about the odd old friend who popped out of the floo. 

But Tonks' sudden appearance in the kitchen with Teddy in her arms was less easy to joke away. She'd been called in to work and wanted him to take Teddy—sounded as if she was even less impressed with Remus' choice of companion than Sirius had been. Of course, they'd been a bit further along in their evening than when Sirius had seen them. 

"Had to modify his memory," Remus said. "Never done that in a personal capacity before. Bloody hell. Teach me to try and have a life." 

Sirius, nothing if not a friend, produced a bottle of whisky that was one of just a few things he'd taken from his ancestral home. He could never stay angry at Remus for long. They drank in silence, downing a healthy measure or two. Sirius tipped more whisky into the glasses, sloshing a fair amount onto the table.

"Oi, don't waste it," Remus croaked. "Tha's none of your cheap plonk."

"I don't _have_ cheap plonk," Sirius said, draining the tumbler again.

It had been a long week even before yesterday evening. Sifting through the letters at the _Quibbler_ to find the few that would lead to work that interested him was more tiresome than it had been at first. And then, this morning, he'd opened one from someone who had found a cursed box that he immediately recognized as having been in his grandfather's study. Remus, it seemed, was doing no better. Things were rough with Tonks, money was tight, and Teddy was teething. 

"So, you've started—what is it you've started doing with that bloke?" Sirius asked, lifting his glass in front of his face. He'd meant to leave it alone, but the sight of Remus and that tart together kept running through his mind. Remus looked all wonky and out of proportion through the glass. He also looked golden. "How's that all going?"

"Sirius, I am a recently divorced, underemployed, queer werewolf with a baby. Yesterday, I decided I might see if I could ever have sex again and my best friend and ex-wife each in turn walked in on me in the space of twenty minutes. How do you think it's going?" He punctuated this pronouncement with, Sirius thought rather eloquently, a loud belch. "Pardon me."

"Well, I'm finished with them all," Sirius said. His shoulder pressed against Remus'. Remus was very warm and pointy. "You have a pointy shoulder."

"No one asked you to lean on it."

"Honestly, who needs it?" Sirius said. "I don't. I have you and Harry. I don't need anyone else. Nothing but an annoyance, trying to find someone. I have a hand. What do I need a man for?"

"Cock?"

"There is that," Sirius said. "Moony, you're very clever. They do have cocks. The old bat and bludgers, as someone brilliant once said, will be missed now that I'm celibate. Cock. Cock. Funny word, that."

"Not as funny as penis," Remus said reasonably.

"Penis, penis," Sirius repeated slowly. He leaned over and looked into Remus' lap. "You have a penis."

"That I do," Remus nodded slowly. 

"I do, too."

"That you do."

"You have a very nice penis, if I remember correctly," Sirius said, flopping his head onto Remus' pointy shoulder.

"Do I?" Remus asked, looking into his lap. "I suppose some have thought so. I don't mind it. It's done all right. Here, when have you been looking at my penis?"

"Penis."

"You said that," Remus said, raising his eyebrows in an effort to open his eyes wider. He flapped his hand about as if he were speaking and then let it fall into Sirius' lap. 

Sirius leaned against Remus, his warm skin, soft hair, and him smelling like expensive whisky and Remus, and when Remus' hand landed in Sirius’ lap, it, quite by accident, brushed against his half-hard cock.

Remus blinked. He moved his hand to cover the bulge in the front of Sirius' robes, stilling as Sirius' cock filled and stirred. 

"You have a nice penis as well," Remus said. 

Sirius looked down in his lap at Remus' long, slim fingers teasing his cock. He had a vague sense that this was a bad idea, that there had been some agreement that this was a mistake. But Remus' hand kept moving, and when he looked into Remus' lap, he saw that Remus was hard, too. He dropped his hand into Remus' lap and traced the outline of his cock.

 

**Eighteen: We Spring**

"Sirius!"

"Sirius! Wake up!"

Sirius felt a sharp pain in his hip and scrubbed his hands over his face. He was sitting on the bloody floor. Remus was sitting up on the settee, rubbing his eyes. Molly Weasley's anxious face was in his fire. 

"Sirius, where's Harry?" she asked, an edge of panic to her voice.

"He's with you," Sirius answered.

"If that were true, would I be bothering you at half six in the morning?" she snapped.

"Hang on, Molly," Remus said. "What?'

"Oh, hello, Remus," Molly said coolly. 

"Harry's not there?" Sirius asked.

"No," Molly said, her panicked tone rising. "He was here earlier." 

"He told me he was spending the night there," Sirius said slowly. 

"Well, he is not here now," she repeated slowly. "Do try and keep up." 

"He's not?" Sirius asked, squeezing his temples. The throbbing in his head was increasing with every word she spoke.

"No!" Molly shouted. 

"Calm down, Molly," Remus said. "I'm sure there's an explanation. Go and wake Ron. If anything changed with Harry's plans, he'll probably know."

"Have you asked Ginny?" Sirius said. 

"She's not here, either," Molly said. 

"Er, perhaps they're together," Remus said cautiously. 

"Good heavens, no," Molly said. "She spent the night at the Lovegoods'. Arthur's just Apparated to their house to ask if Ginny or Luna have heard from him." Molly turned her head to look over her shoulder and her expression gradually changed from worried to horror-stricken as they heard a crack of Apparition and Arthur's voice in the background. 

" _What_ , Molly," Sirius barked.

"Ginny's not there." 

"I'm going over to his flat," Sirius said, forcing himself to stand without swaying despite a splitting headache and a wave of dizziness. 

Remus frowned and walked to the hearth. "We should floo Kingsley." 

"And send in the Aurors who've done fuck all to stop this lunatic?" Sirius snapped.

Remus shook his head and said firmly, "We don't know that he's been taken by the note-writer."

"We don't know that he hasn't been," Sirius said, clenching his teeth. 

Arthur's head appeared in the fire next to Molly's, his brow creased with worry. "I'll find Kingsley," Arthur said. "If the mystery writer's done something with Harry, odds are he's tried something with Kingsley as well. Molly, you find Ron and grill him until he tells you everything he knows. Sirius, I know better than to ask you and Remus to wait until we hear from Kingsley. Just keep in touch, all right? We'll find them."

"We'll find them," echoed Molly, the look of panic being replaced by determination. 

*

Harry's flat looked exactly as it had the day he'd moved in with Sirius. Nothing out of place, no sign of forced entry, no sign of a struggle or unusual spells. Sirius and Remus looked everywhere. They contacted Neville. They flooed George. They asked everyone they knew to ask everyone they knew to keep an eye out and contact them or the Burrow with any information. By nine o'clock, Sirius had a knot of panic in his chest and Remus' quiet, "I'm sure there's an explanation," had given way to, "There's something we're missing." 

"Let's try his flat again," Remus said. "We must have missed something. He's not received a single letter or threat since living with you, correct?" Sirius nodded. "So we know that whoever it is still believes him to be living there."

"Either that," Sirius growled, "or they weren't stupid enough to try anything when they would have had to deal with both of us."

"Or that," Remus said. "Come on."

They'd searched the inside thoroughly already and two Aurors, who were supposed to be undercover, were now stationed in the front of the building, so there was no use in trying there again. Sirius was just about to suggest that they head back to the Burrow to see if Molly and Arthur had any news, when he heard a clatter—like someone dropping their wand—from the alley behind the flat. 

Sirius caught Remus' eye and gestured that he'd go around the back of the building, while Remus went in the front. Anyone lurking in the alley would be trapped. Sirius moved on stealthy feet, not making a sound, wand at the ready. There was definitely a man in the shadows under Harry's window. It was hard to tell if he'd just come out or was trying to go in. He saw Remus creeping toward the figure and heard Remus' low, menacing voice growl. " _Don't move_." 

Sirius rushed forward and pinned the man to the wall as Remus ran up behind him, both pointing their wands into the horrified face of Ron Weasley. 

"What mark did you get in your Defence Against the Dark Arts exam when I was your teacher?" Remus said, staring hard at the quivering man who Sirius was certain really was Ron. 

"A—acceptable," Ron stammered. 

"Ron," Sirius said, trying with everything he had not to sound threatening. "Please tell me that you know where Harry and Ginny are."

"Out of luck, when I catch up with them," Ron snapped, jerking his shoulder out of Remus' grip.

*

They arrived back at the Burrow, each with a hand on a furious and very nervous looking Ron, who kept muttering things like, "Last bloody time I cover for that git," and "What kind of a pillock asks a bloke to lie for him so that he can sneak off with his sister, for fuck's sake."

Ron immediately became the subject of an intense interrogation. And then Kingsley arrived in his Minister's robes and it took on the look of a full-on trial. 

After many attempts to come up with a new cover story, Ron admitted that Harry and Ginny had gone to spend the night at the Langham Hotel. 

"Well, Harry won't let anything happen to Ginny," Sirius said. 

Ron coughed and Molly groused, "And Ginny won't let anything happen to Harry."

"That was extremely foolhardy," Kingsley said, bearing down on Ron.

" _I_ didn't do anything," Ron snapped, crossing his arms and hunkering down in his seat. 

An uncomfortable mix of relief and fury boiled in Sirius' stomach. "I think I'll go and collect Harry."

"I'm coming with you," Molly said, turning to the rack where he cloak hung. 

"No," Arthur said, looking a little like he was going to be sick. "I'll go. I think you should have a talk with Ron."

"I cannot believe you, Ronald Weasley," Molly fumed, and Sirius almost felt sorry for him.

"I didn't do anything," Ron shouted.

"They're both all right," Remus said. "That's what's important."

"Not for long they're not," Molly and Sirius said together.

*

Banon wasn't going to let them in. "Many of our guests require discretion," he repeated with a cool stare.

"Look here," Sirius said. "This is important. I am sorry I checked out without giving you advance notice, but that was a long time ago. This man is looking for his daughter. Please don't take any grievance with me out on him."

Banon said, "Many of our—"

And the door to room 333 opened. Ginny and Harry, beaming at each other in the doorway, stepped out into the hallway and the colour instantly drained from both of their faces.

*

Harry sat on the edge of a kitchen chair, his legs kicked out in front of him, glaring at Sirius, who was pacing back and forth, trying to calm himself enough not to hex Harry.

"We're both of age," Harry grumbled.

" _That_ is not the point."

"What is the point?"

Sirius took a deep breath. Harry was _trying_ to make him hex him. 

"Do you know what Kingsley found out tonight?" Sirius said. "Do you?"

"You know I don't."

"He found out who has been sending the notes," Sirius said. "That's right. The idiot slipped up and dropped a bottle of green ink in a lift at the Ministry."

Harry dropped the sullen teenager persona and sat up taller. "He's caught? He was at the Ministry?"

"Jarvis Jugson. Former suspected Death Eater, Harry," Sirius said, pausing to let the words sink in. "All charges had been dropped, so he's not on any watch list. That's not all. He's Dolores Umbridge's brother-in-law. Apparently, he'd been using his wife's signature to send and receive mail to and from Umbridge. The mail room at the prison caught it after Kingsley asked them to take extra precautions with the mail of anyone who might have it in for either of you. Seems she was instructing him on what to write. The guards now think she was planning an escape. They say she's gone quite mad—"

"She was always mad."

"Well, she'll be worse now. Trust me," Sirius said grimly. "They've moved her to my old wing, the high security row."

Harry looked down. "I'm sorry I worried you. It was a stupid stunt," he said just contritely enough that Sirius no longer wanted to kill him.

"It was stupid," Sirius said. "It was dangerous. You do realise we all thought you and Ginny had been kidnapped?"

"I said I was sorry." 

Sirius sighed. At Harry's age, he had just begun fighting a war. Harry had been fighting one since he was a baby. And here they were both trying to lead a normal life when they barely had a nodding acquaintance with the concept. Sirius was suddenly quite happy that this all came down to Harry doing something as normal as sneaking about to have some privacy with his girlfriend.

"Stop sitting there looking shattered. You can have guests _here_. And that includes Ginny, as long as Arthur and Molly know where she is. Let me know, and I'll clear out. I don't want you and Ginny at hotels, or causing international incidents to be alone. Understood? Oh, and just for future reference, stay clear of the concierge at the Langham, eh?"

 

 **Nineteen: We Have Circled and Circled**

Sirius stared back at his reflection. He smiled with his mouth closed. He smiled showing rows of painstakingly restored teeth. He shook his head, watching his hair ripple and a lock fall carelessly across his face. It had certainly been a long road, but he looked like himself again, and not some shadowed parody. 

He adjusted his robe, ran his brush through his hair again, and picked up and put down the dog collar three times before dropping it back on the dressing table. As a young man, when he'd worn it nearly all the time, he always thought it had drawn Remus' eyes. Then he'd convinced himself that he was imagining things—telling himself that if Remus had wanted him, he knew him well enough to ask. 

His home glowed with low lamps and soft candle light. Dinner was warming in the kitchen, wine was breathing, and the table was set with simple, elegant plates and silver. 

Harry walked in and glanced at Sirius and the table. "Oh, have you got a date coming over? I'll clear out."

"No," Sirius said reflexively. "Remus is coming over."

"Ah, then I'll definitely clear out," Harry chuckled. 

"Idiot," Sirius said, wondering if Harry knew that his stomach was turning over about once every minute. "You don't have to leave."

"You've made a rather romantic setting for not-a-date," Harry said, cocking an eyebrow and looking so like Lily. "Actually, I'm going to the Burrow to make peace and offer explanations."

"Ah," Sirius said, laughing and wondering what explanations could possibly be made. "Brave man."

"Brave or stupid," Harry said. 

As soon as Harry stepped into the Floo, Sirius blew out a few candles, moved the roses he'd trimmed from his garden from the table to the side board, and switched the Wizarding Wireless Network to the Quidditch. No need to tip his hand too early. 

*

Remus was ten minutes early for dinner. His hair still curled in damp tendrils over his collar from a recent shower, and he was wearing the blue robe that Sirius had given him last year.

"Dinner's ready," Sirius said. "So we may as well eat now." 

"It smells delicious," Remus said, his small smile lighting his eyes. 

They ate in a comfortable silence that came from not needing to fill every moment with sound. Sirius loved eating with Remus. He enjoyed every bite of a good meal so much, savouring it and heaping on the thanks and appreciation. Sirius shuddered to think that this came, in part, from all the meals he had missed. But he'd been that way at school as well, and Sirius preferred to think it was one of the places that Remus let go of his tight control a bit. 

"That was very, very nice," Remus said, lifting his last bit of roast potato to his mouth. "Thank you. I've not had much time to cook, or even eat, lately. Tonks has been so busy at work, and when I've not been either tutoring or chasing down Harry, I've had Teddy." 

"Except for the other night," Sirius said. He hadn't really meant to bring that up. They'd been spared talking about it because of Harry and Ginny's stunt, and they had both seemed to have been taking the strategy of pretending that they'd been so pissed they didn't remember it.

"Except for the other night," Remus echoed. He frowned and, for a moment, Sirius wished he hadn't brought it up. "Sirius, I'm not sure I even remember clearly what happened—"

"I do," Sirius said. He stood and walked around to stand in front of Remus. 

Remus sucked in a breath and looked up at him. "Sirius—"

And he saw it, the way Remus' eyes darted from Sirius' eyes to his mouth. It was small and subtle and you probably had to _know_ Remus to see it, but it held traces of want and a glimmer of hope. 

"Remus, I want you to stay the night with me. I'm asking you. And this is not an accident and I am not drunk."

Remus froze and looked down, and Sirius prepared himself for the irony. No one had turned him down, well, ever. And here he was asking the one person he wanted so badly he could feel it in his bones, and Remus wanted him—he knew that now as if he'd always known it was true. And he was about to be turned down. 

"I don't see anyone else in either of our beds," Sirius said, dropping one hand onto Remus' shoulder. "We're here alone in my house, and my bedroom is an excellent place to work through a mid-life crisis in privacy. What do you say?"

Remus reached out and brushed Sirius' hand with his. He looked up and his warm brown eyes were wide and happy. "Sirius, I am _not_ having a mid-life crisis."

"That doesn't precisely answer my question," Sirius said, feeling a lunatic grin start to tug at his lips because Remus was smiling and he had that look of his when someone showed him unexpected kindness or gave him praise, like he wanted to accept it, but to be _too_ pleased would be unseemly.

"Oh Merlin, Sirius I want to, I do. You have no idea. No idea. I—fuck. I have to pick Teddy up at nine. Tonks asked if I'd be able to take him tonight, and I really thought this was just dinner, and...bugger."

Sirius tipped back his head and laughed. He grabbed Remus' hand and pulled him to standing. Remus' sweet, familiar face was so close to his, wearing a delighted smile. Remus tilted his head to the side and leaned up, and, closing the two inches between them, he kissed Sirius. It was soft and simple and almost chaste. 

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" Remus asked, and he leaned close again, kissing the laughter on Sirius' lips. 

 

**Twenty: Who Balance Ourselves, Orbic and Stellar**

When Sirius arrived at Remus' house, Harry and Ron were still there finishing their lessons, parchment and books spread out over the kitchen table. Remus had said they usually finished by four o'clock and Sirius had forced himself to wait until five past before knocking on his door. 

"Hello, Sirius," Ron said cautiously as he stood up.

"All's forgiven, Ron," Sirius said, chuckling and taking pity on the boy. "Why don't you two go off and have a night out. My treat." He clapped Ron on the shoulder and handed him several fat, gold coins. 

"Blimey, Sirius. Thanks," Ron said, staring wide-eyed at the gold. "Remus said you weren't angry." 

He grinned and pocketed the coins before sitting and putting his quill to parchment again, making some final notes on the day's lessons. Harry gave Sirius a peculiar little smile and began stuffing books and notes into his bag. Remus' gaze swept over Sirius, head to toe and back again, and Sirius shivered. 

"They've hardly room to hold a grudge against someone who does something reckless to cover for a friend," Harry said. He looked back and forth between Sirius and Remus several times and Sirius had the impression he was holding back a comment. 

"What have you lads planned for tonight?" Sirius asked, clearing his throat. 

"Not much," Ron said, leaning back in his chair. Remus coughed and stood, hurriedly putting his texts on the shelf next to the table. "Hermione’s revising with Neville. Thought we might meet up with them for a drink when they're finished."

"Well," Sirius said. "Enjoy, then." Ron still didn't make a move to leave. 

"I don't suppose you'd want to join us, tell some more stories from the first—"

Sirius was trying to work out how to kindly tell him to get the hell out of Remus' house when Harry stood and grabbed the tin of Floo powder over the kitchen fire. 

"Let's go Ron. I think they already have plans," he said, handing the open tin to Ron. Harry smirked and, when Ron stepped into the fire, said, "If you're not home in the morning, should I alert the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" 

"Cheeky little bugger," Sirius called to Harry's swirling, green silhouette. 

"I gather that Harry knows," Remus said, raising one eyebrow. 

"Knows what, Moony?" Sirius titled his head and smiled. 

"Knows the nature of your visit, idiot," Remus said, and he laughed, a sound that Sirius now saw with startling clarity had been a part of nearly all of his happiest moments. 

"Hmm," Sirius said. He lifted his hand to Remus' cheek, smoothed his thumb over the cheekbone. Remus' jaw was rough with stubble and he leaned into the touch. "Should we discuss the nature of my visit?"

Remus straightened, moving to look at Sirius. "Are you asking if I want to talk about this?"

And Sirius realised that he was, and that maybe he needed to make sure he was clear. After all these years, all they'd been through, it suddenly seemed as if nothing had ever been more right. All his lovers, even those he'd known well enough to be fond of, had been leading up to this. He wanted Remus. He wanted to kiss him and touch him, make him come. That was the nature of this particular visit, but it was more than that. It was the coming together of everything he'd been hoping for since he picked that particular door in the circular room a lifetime ago. 

"It's not about sex," he said. 

"I hope it's a _little_ bit about sex," Remus said, blinking. 

Sirius curved his hand around the side of Remus' neck and splayed his fingers, stroking behind Remus' ear with his thumb. Remus reached out to curl a hand around Sirius' waist. 

"It's not _about_ sex," Sirius said. He smiled and moved his hand across Remus' shoulders and down his arm. "But I certainly plan for that to be one of the by-products."

"You're not finished, are you?" Remus asked, shaking his head so that his hair moved in the light, the silver catching the gold of the setting sun. 

"After the last time—times—I want you to know," Sirius said. "And since lately, I've been a bit, well, a bit of—"

"A slag?" Remus supplied. 

"Fair enough," Sirius said. He circled Remus' wrist with his fingers. "Remus, when I offered to make you the Wolfsbane and you said you didn't need me...I think that's when I realised. I want you to need me. And I think you need to know, before—"

"You think I need to know what it's like," Remus interrupted again, turning his hand so their palms pressed against each other. "What it's like to spend years knowing that you could love someone, but just in the periphery of your mind—knowing it like you know to breathe, without even realising. And then one day, _knowing_ , because of some stupid little thing he does, something he always does, some melodramatic gesture, or he smiles at you like you are the only one who really knows him. And then you see that you are, and that _he_ is the only one who really knows _you_. And then you're completely fucked, because you realise that you've probably loved him since you were a kid and everyone else has been an attempt to either fill the void or get as far away as possible from what you've wanted and can't have."

" _Remus_ ," Sirius sighed, letting each word fall, glowing, into its place in his chest. "You can. How can you not know that? You can."

Remus' fingers tightened on Sirius' hand. 

"I needed you to know," Remus said, looking at Sirius, so close. 

Sirius waited, and let the breathless, tingly, just-about-to-be-kissed feeling wash over him. Remus stretched up and Sirius parted his lips, waiting still, an elastic band of anticipation winding in him. Remus pressed his cheek to Sirius' jaw and inhaled, but Sirius wanted to feel Remus' lips on his, to share their breath and show Remus how badly he was wanted. 

He traced Remus' jaw with his fingers and pushed up—gentle pressure under Remus' chin, nudging until he could press a kiss, just a touch of lips. Remus kissed back and a warm, slick hint of tongue slid along Sirius' mouth. 

"Mm," Sirius hummed, parting his lips and sucking Remus' tongue into his mouth. The kiss was long and deep and Sirius poured in all of the wanting and waiting of the past months. He let his hands wander over Remus' back, pressed his body into Remus' and moaned when Remus pressed back. "This mean I can stay?" Sirius murmured against his jaw.

"Want you," Remus murmured. He ducked his head to work his mouth, lips and tongue, a hint of teeth, over Sirius' neck, each little jolt of sensation pounding in Sirius' veins. 

"You have me, Moony," Sirius whispered, his voice soft and rough with desire. 

Remus gasped and rolled his hips and Sirius felt his already hard cock connect with his own. Sirius swayed, dizzy with lust and desperate for the touch of Remus' skin. Remus laughed and wrapped his arms around Sirius' waist. The laughter warmed his heart and there it was, the difference between this and every other lover he'd ever had. 

He hugged Remus back, and with soft, open-mouthed kisses all the while, walked backwards, a slow, excruciating dance across the kitchen to the door that led to the hallway. When his back hit the door frame, he threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of Remus' neck and curled his tongue around Remus', deep and intimate. He tried to pull away and end the kiss so he could speak, but their tongues slid, silk-rough, and Remus' thighs pressed warm against his. Remus' fingers tangled in his hair and he didn't have the will to change this moment. Remus' hands moved to cup his face and pressed in deeper, owning the kiss and pulling Sirius' tongue into his mouth only to slide back and look at Sirius with burning, nearly black, eyes. 

"Not here. I want you in my bed," Remus said, the near-frantic tone of his voice curling Sirius' toes. 

Sirius let himself be led, Remus' strong hand on his and intense looks full of promise pulling him to the bedroom.

Remus' bedroom was spare and neat, a dark red coverlet edged with gold and the few photos the only hint of sentimentality. Remus swished his wand and the lamps flickered to life with a low, golden light. Sirius took him in his arms, hands roaming over the long, sinewy muscles and angular shoulders, feeling the heat emanating from his body, and finally yielding to how much he wanted this.

"On the bed," Sirius said, his voice soft but commanding. Keeping his arms around Remus, Sirius lowered him on to the bed and stepped back to drink in the sight. Remus propped himself up on his elbows and Sirius saw a hint of bewilderment, like he couldn't believe his luck, in Remus' dear face. Sirius wanted to kiss that look away, but after all this waiting, he felt it too.

Remus reached out and tugged at Sirius' robe. "Take this off." 

"You watching?'

"Of course I am," Remus smirked. "Go on." 

Sirius loosened the belt of his robe and handed one end to Remus. Remus chuckled low in his throat and pulled the belt free, making Sirius' robe fall open. Sirius pushed the robe off his shoulders and stood there in his pants and vest. He flicked his hair back off his shoulders and titled his hips. 

"Well?" Sirius asked, flexing his stomach and arm muscles.

"Dead sexy," Remus said. His voice was light, but his eyes dropped to the bulge in Sirius' pants and a flush crept up his neck. 

Sirius gestured at Remus, moving his hand in a circle. "You now. Get on with it." 

Remus quickly discarded his robe, leaving him in a t-shirt that clung to his slim frame and red boxer shorts. Sirius stepped closer, until his toes touched Remus'.

"Gryffindor?" he asked, running a finger along the side of Remus' hip on the boxers.

"I'm nothing if not loyal," Remus said, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

"Off," Sirius insisted. 

Remus grabbed the hem of the t-shirt and Sirius saw the slightest hesitation as he pulled it over his head. He touched him, gentle traces of fingertips on his shoulder, palms flattened against his stomach, fingers feeling the softness of the hair on his chest. 

"You never knew what you were worth," Sirius whispered, and that was not exactly what he meant, but it would do, because Remus pulled back and the uncertain, happy-to-be-here expression shifted to burning hot and wanting. 

They fell back onto the bed together and Sirius pulled Remus down on top of him, hands running over his back, legs tangling together, lips on Remus' collarbone, worshipping and letting him know that he had always been beautiful to Sirius. 

"And you were always too good-looking for your own good." Remus moved, rocking into Sirius, nipping and licking everywhere his mouth could touch. 

Sirius' cock rubbed against the soft fabric of Remus' boxers. "Here, this won't do," he said, sliding a hand under the waistband and over the warm skin there. 

Pushing on Remus' shoulder, Sirius urged him onto his back on the bed, kneeled over him, and yanked his pants down. "Mmm," Sirius hummed, licking his lips as Remus' cock, hard as stone, sprang free. Sirius touched lightly along the length, feeling the pulse in the vein on the underside, the fullness of its girth, the softness of the skin. He leaned and licked, tongue flat and broad, from the base to the tip and Remus panted and writhed beautifully. _Oh, this is going to be fun_. He did it again, this time licking over the head, and tasting a salty burst on his tongue. 

"Oh, fuck, Sirius," Remus moaned, rolling his hips and carding a hand through Sirius' hair. 

Sirius grinned and licked around the head, opening his mouth as if to take Remus' cock inside, but kissing down the shaft instead.

“Fuck," Remus panted. "Suck me, _please_ , suck me."

Sirius snickered and sucked a finger into his mouth, and another, wetting them, while Remus watched intently. He trailed his fingers past Remus' balls to his arse. He slid the wet fingers along the cleft of Remus' arse, fingering the entrance, teasing. Remus let out a huff of frustration as Sirius circled his hole, not quite pushing past the tight muscle. Sirius kissed around the base of Remus' cock, and Remus thrust back, forcing Sirius' finger inside. 

"Oh bloody hell, you're trying to drive me mad," Remus groaned, rocking his hips to work Sirius' finger deeper inside. 

Sirius let out a delighted laugh. He could happily have tormented Remus for hours. After all this time, he finally had him, all hot skin and wide eyes, rippling, wiry muscles and thick, straining cock. The tormenting was delicious and Remus was so lovely coming undone, but there would be another time to kiss every inch of him, to make him wait until he was mad with desire. With a moan of anticipation, Sirius slid his mouth over the head of Remus' cock at the same time as he pushed his finger inside as far as he could. Remus tossed his head to the side and started to jerk back and forth between Sirius' mouth and his finger. Sirius slid Remus' cock into his mouth and pulled back up again, sucking hard on the sensitive tip. His finger moved easily in and out, Remus' muscles tight around it. Remus' muscles begin to loosen on Sirius' finger and that sent a rush of desire so intense that he almost came, the head of his cock rubbing back and forth on a slick spot on the sheets. Sirius pulled his finger nearly all the way out and started to slip another next to it into Remus' body.

Remus gasped, "I don't want to come like this." He tried to stop moving, but Sirius pushed into him again, adding the second finger, and licked the length of his cock, hard kisses at the base. Remus' breath became ragged as he fucked himself harder on Sirius' fingers. "Ah, Sirius, not like this," he begged again, helpless to stop moving. 

"How do you want to come?" Sirius asked, trailing his tongue up Remus' cock. "Tell me what you want," he said, with a kiss to the soft head. 

"I want you," Remus said, his voice trembling with lust. 

"What do you like, Moony?"

"I don't fucking care," Remus moaned, still thrusting onto Sirius' fingers.

"Do you want to fuck me?" Sirius asked. He rocked his hips against Remus' leg so Remus could feel how hard and desperate he was.

"Shit, yes."

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

Remus let out a long, low groan, " _Yes_ , yes."

"Which, Moony?" Sirius asked, with a breathy little chuckle. 

"Fuck me. I want you inside me," Remus said, rolling so that Sirius' fingers slipped out of him. He grabbed Sirius' shoulders and pulled him on top of him. Remus licked his dry lips and stroked Sirius' hair back from his face. "So gorgeous." 

Sirius stretched out over Remus, balancing on his forearms so he could look into Remus' face—strong, stubble-dark jaw, eyes that could pin you to the wall with a look or make you feel like the most important person on the earth, gentle smiles and well-kissed lips—and Sirius knew it would sound trite to say he couldn't hold a candle to Remus.

He ducked his head to kiss Remus' neck, sucking on the salty-sweet skin until Remus moaned and thrust up against him. He sucked harder and nipped, and Remus moaned louder. Sirius knew he was leaving a mark, and tomorrow Remus would see it and know that he was everything Sirius desired. 

Sirius smoothed his hand along the underside of Remus' thigh, nudging Remus' leg up and around his waist. Immediately, both of Remus' legs came up on either side of his body and his feet settled on the backs of Sirius' thighs. They rocked together like this for a moment, Remus' cock sliding against Sirius' stomach, leaving wet trails. 

"Can't wait. Waited long enough," Sirius murmured. He splayed his hand out on Remus' lower back and helped him to lift and tilt his hips, spreading his legs wider and opening him to Sirius.

"Sirius," Remus gasped. "Come on." 

Sirius shifted his hips and pushed his cock into Remus' cleft, sliding until he felt the head rub over Remus' entrance. He pulled back and did it again, the head of his cock slick on Remus' skin, just brushing over the tight ring of muscle. Remus grabbed Sirius, stopping him from sliding back up and away. He angled his hips so that Sirius' cock pushed just inside, only the tip. Remus clenched Sirius with his thighs and circled his hips, working himself around the head of Sirius' cock, delicious, hot pressure like nothing Sirius had ever felt. 

"Oh, _unh_ , feels so good," Sirius panted. "Perfect, so good. I have to fuck you now."

Remus smiled triumphantly and pulled his legs nearly to his chest. "Yeah, you do."

Sirius grasped Remus' hips, holding him still, and eased inside, feeling Remus' body accept him inch by inch. Remus moved his hand to cup Sirius' arse, forcing Sirius' cock all the way in. Sirius began to fuck him in long, slow strokes. He couldn't take his eyes off Remus' face, as familiar as his own, more beautiful than ever with his dark eyes urging Sirius on, deep pink lips open and panting. 

Remus pushed back against him, begging him to go deeper, fuck him harder. They moved together, meeting each other stroke for stroke until Sirius couldn't tell who was setting the rhythm, where he stopped and Remus began. Remus gasped his name again and again, rough and lovely, and Sirius knew that he had circled and searched, only to arrive home.

*

Sirius woke to Remus' hand trailing up and down his ribs, lightly tickling. Remus had sidled up to Sirius, spooning him from behind. Remus' lips, soft and warm, were on the back of his neck, his shoulders, breath ruffling his hair.

"Are we awake?" Sirius asked, leaning back against Remus and wriggling until his arse nestled into the curve of Remus' body.

"Mm, bits of us are," Remus muttered, arching so that Sirius could feel him hard against his arse.

Sirius moved his legs, their skin stuttering over each other. He wrapped his arm behind him, around Remus' hips, fingers just touching his arse. 

"Padfoot?" Remus said, a smile tugging at one side of his mouth. 

"Hmm?" Sirius hummed.

"It drove me mad thinking about you and Charlie together. Drove me completely mad." 

"Jealous?"

"Randy."

"Not even a little jealous?"

"Perhaps a little," Remus conceded. "But mostly randy." Remus' hand moved down his stomach, stroking the trail of hair low on his abdomen. 

Sirius laughed. "Well, maybe we could ask him to join us sometime."

"Maybe," Remus said, shifting so that his body half covered Sirius', rolling him nearly onto his front. Remus leaned and kissed just under Sirius' ear. "Maybe, but not just yet. I think I want you all to myself for a bit." 

"Hmm. Is it true what they say in the porn mags about werewolf stamina?" Sirius asked, pushing back against Remus. "I've always wondered."

Remus laughed and muttered a quiet spell. A second later, Sirius felt cool, slippery fingers slicking him open.

"Let's see," Remus growled, and Sirius gasped when he was entered in one quick, hard movement. He pushed back forcefully onto Remus' cock. His fingers dug into Remus' arse, he threw his head back onto Remus' shoulder, and revelled in the full, sensual feeling of having Remus inside him. 

*

It was nearly dawn the next time he awoke. Sirius was torn between never wanting this night to end and looking forward to waking in the full light of day, still in Remus' bed.

"Do you remember," Remus said, trailing his hand through Sirius' hair with tender affection. "What we said about both being alone at forty?" 

"Yes," Sirius said, turning his head to kiss the soft skin over Remus' heart. "Never forgot." 

"I always half-hoped we would."

"Me, too," Sirius said. "Me, too." 

"Sirius?" 

"Mm?"

"Do you still have that absurd collar you used to wear?" Remus asked. His hand moved from Sirius' hair and down his body to curl around his hip.

"I believe I do," Sirius said slowly.

"Good."

"You want me to put it on?" Sirius asked, laughing sleepily into Remus' neck. 

"Too sleepy now," Remus yawned. "But what are you doing tomorrow?"

"Go to sleep, so tomorrow’ll come more quickly," Sirius said as his eyes began to drift shut.

Remus' arm came tight around his waist, pulling him back, so they were touching from their ankles to where Remus' cheek rested on Sirius' hair. 

This hardly seemed real. Remus was holding him in his arms, breathing softly, skin still flushed and movements languid. He knew he was getting ahead of himself—and if he said it out loud, Remus would laugh and call him an idiot, something that almost made it worth doing—but Sirius could believe that at Christmas in two months’ time, he would wake up Remus with a kiss. Harry would be asleep down the hall; perhaps Teddy as well. Harry would probably go to the Burrow later, and Remus would take Teddy to Andromeda's. But for a time, he would have them all to himself. Sirius closed his eyes and imagined his family, sleeping peacefully in his home, while freshly fallen snow blanketed them in silence.


End file.
